


Dumpling

by unicornball



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Harry, Chubby Hubby lovin' Draco, Domestic Fluff, Draco/Harry - Freeform, Drarry, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Inappropriate Food Use, Kid Fic, M/M, Male Slash, Mpreg, Rimming, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornball/pseuds/unicornball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>Over the course of their relationship, Draco notices (and likes) the changes his Harry goes through.</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What in Merlin's name is a taco, Harry?

**Author's Note:**

> _So, this will be some random bits here but I don't think it counts as drabbles. Just random bits, but they do flow into a story... of sorts._
> 
> _It's not much— just random bits about Draco discovering he's an avid admirer of his chubby-hubby when Harry starts to put on a little weight._
> 
> _(Maybe it's my inner squeeing fangirl just adoring the idea of Harry as an adorable, cuddly Cub.)_
> 
> _Enjoy!_ ❤

"What the hell is _that_?" Draco asks, pointing at the thing currently disappearing into Harry's mouth. He stares, unable to look away, when Harry's tongue darts out and cleans the corner of his mouth. The creamy white substance has his imagination plummet into the gutter and going in over-drive rather quickly and he shuffles closer.

Harry pulls the remaining bit of taco back for a moment, stares at it and gives Draco a very pointed, very plain 'you're quite the idiot' look. "It's a taco," he says flatly, eating the rest in one bite.

"What, pray tell, is a _taco_?" Draco asks, watching as Harry licks his fingers of cheese bits and grease. And more creamy white stuff. Not that he really cares what a taco is. It looks revolting, regardless if Harry's near sex-like moans indicate otherwise. His Harry always did have an odd taste in cuisine.

Harry rolls his eyes and unwraps another taco. "A yummy food product consisting of ground beef, cheese, sour cream and lettuce all cradled in a delicious, crunchy tortilla shell," he says and bites into another taco with a soft, happy hum. "What did you want, anyway?" he asks, mouth half-full and bulging on one side like a hoarding rodent. Normally, he keeps his 'disgusting Muggle-like eating habits' out of their living room but Draco had texted him earlier and it sounded important enough he came straight home after picking up his 'disgusting Muggle slop' for lunch. It had to have been important to have Draco using the Muggle cell-phone in the first place.

"Ugh," Draco mutters and wrinkles his nose. "That's... dreadful," he comments, looking pointedly at the rapidly disappearing 'food' item. He crosses his arms over his chest and shifts so he's standing a bit taller. "I wanted to ask why you quit the Auror training program."

Harry pauses mid-chew and tries not to choke. How could he forget Draco works at the Ministry too and would've been one of the first to hear the juicy gossip? He swallows with a grimace and washes everything down with several long sips of his soda, ignoring Draco's disgusted grimace again. "What? Don't make that face until you've tried it," he chides. He offers the blonde a wrapped taco and grins, waving it a bit when Draco glares at him. "It's good, I swear!" he says, watching Draco fold himself gracefully into a chair.

"I don't like Muggle quick food," Draco says slowly with a sneer. He hasn't tried it and he won't. It doesn't look edible and he can't understand how Harry can stomach it. "And don't change the subject." He leans forward a bit, softening his expression. He knows why Harry quit; he hated the Auror program and loathed the very idea of dashing about like some Muggle super hero. Though, he would look positively edible in tights and a cape...

Harry lets the taco fall from his fingers onto the paper spread out on the table and sighs. "I hate it." He looks at Draco earnestly and isn't all that surprised to see understanding. "I gave it an honest go, since everyone wanted me to. But I just couldn't stand another day. I had to either quit or go insane," he says leveling one hand and then the other, as if weighing each option.

"I know," Draco says and slides off the chair to scoot across the floor to sit next to Harry. He chuckles when Harry gives him a wide-eyed stare and wraps an arm around his narrow shoulders, pulling him close to his side. Either his calm demeanor or the fact he's willingly sitting on the floor could be the reason for Harry's shock and he isn't sure which and he stifles a chuckle. "I honestly thought you'd have quit weeks ago."

Harry sighs, happily and with relief this time, and nods. He's so glad Draco understands, ridiculously so. "I _wanted_ to. I just... I didn't want to disappoint anyone."

"That's utterly idiotic, love," Draco chides gently. He laughs with delight when Harry glares at him, his mouth pinched with annoyance. "Well, it _is_. You just can't keep living for other people. I'm extremely proud you did what _you_ wanted." He smirks and leans in close, "My little closet Slytherin." He nuzzles against Harry's neck and kisses the warm skin softly. He's more than proud Harry finally quit being the Wizarding world's welcome mat; he's ecstatic and nearly vibrating with so many emotions and wicked thoughts.

Harry chuckles and leans into Draco's side, wrapping both arms around the blonde's waist and burrowing his face into Draco's neck. "You're such a sap sometimes!" he coos, nuzzling Draco. He absently spins the golden bonding ring on his finger and smiles to himself. Sure Draco can still be a right prat, but most times he's a right softy. A real closet Hufflepuff, he muses with a stifled giggle.

"Shut up. I am not. I'm just extremely intelligent and adore you, so naturally I know what's best."

Harry giggles, unable to keep the unmanly sound in when dealing with Draco's 'pissy face'. "Uh huh," he hums, warmth fluttering in his chest. He might say otherwise, but he knows it's true. He angles his head enough to press his lips to the soft skin on Draco's pale throat. "Know what else I want?" he murmurs.

"What?" Draco asks, already feeling heat pool in his belly and groin. He turns his head slightly, willingly giving Harry free access to his neck and jaw, groaning softly when teeth nip gently. He immediately grabs a hold of Harry's hips when the man moves and straddles his lap. He loves when Harry's wants and his align perfectly. He arches up into Harry when fingers slide under his shirt and flutter along his slides and nipples. "Wait a second..."

Harry pulls back. "What?" he asks, trying not to wriggle or arch into Draco and demanding they talk later. If Draco is interrupting what's clearly leading to sex, it must be important. He sighs, settling on Draco's thighs and giving his blonde his full attention. 

"What do you want to do?" Draco asks, after a moment of gathering his thoughts back. Merlin, one sexy little wriggle and moan from Harry and his brain goes on vacation. He grins when Harry pulls back even more and blinks owlishly at him.

"I don't know." Harry says honestly, realizing after a moment Draco is speaking career-wise. He hasn't thought about it. He just knew he didn't want to spend Merlin alone knew how many years chasing bad guys or doing mind-numbing paper work. He had plenty of money but he couldn't sit on his ass for long without going absolutely crazy with boredom. He shrugs, trailing a finger down Draco's still-clothed chest, grinning when he feels a nipple harden under his fingertip. He flicks it and grins at the soft gasp from Draco. "Haven't thought about it."

Draco nods and swallows, trying to focus as Harry's finger glides down his chest and hooks into his pants, fiddling with the button. "Well, whatever you want to do, do it. I don't care if you think it's silly or not," he says, nodding seriously when Harry raises an eyebrow at him. He knows Harry can be stupidly self-conscious at times. He understands it, to a degree, but he doesn't _get_ it. Harry can do anything and still, at times, he questions himself. "Breed crups for all I care," he breathes, arching up as a hand slips into his pants. He wiggles his hips when Harry's palm just lays against his growing erection, his whole body still. "What?"

"That's completely ridiculous," Harry laughs. "What do I know about crups?" He chuckles when he gets a sharp silvery glare. "I know, I know. I get your point though," he says and rolls his eyes. "I'll think about it," he promises and leans forward to kiss Draco soundly. "Can we continue?" he asks, curling his fingers slightly and stroking gently.

Draco nods, his eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck, yes. Stop and I'll hex you."

"Yes, sir," Harry mutters but doesn't stop. He vanishes the constricting pants and boxer-briefs, chuckling warmly when Draco jumps and glares at him. "Sorry," he says, not sounding it at all. He scrambles up and holds out a hand for Draco. "I don't want carpet burn," he laughs when Draco blinks up at him with a questioning expression. His laugh goes a bit breathless when Draco pops up and shoves him onto the sofa in one graceful, fluid move.

Draco grunts quietly when Harry's hands get busy, one stroking along his already flushed erection and the other trying to pull off his own clothing. He huffs and slaps Harry's hands away, quickly pulling off his t-shirt and sliding his pants down. "Really, Harry... no underwear?"

"I forgot," Harry shrugs. He had been running late this morning (which had been entirely Draco's fault -with his insistent lips and hands), and just barely had time to remember pants let alone underwear. "You're complaining?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Didn't think so," he says when Draco just glares down at him for a moment before his eyes trail his body eagerly. He twitches, trying not to wiggle and giggle when Draco's fingertips flutter against his stomach and sides. "I swear-" he starts, ending in a happy sigh when those pale, long fingers finally wrap around his cock and squeeze gently. "Ah," he huffs.

"Stop talking," Draco demands and sits up on his knees enough to give Harry room as he flips him over and straddles the backs of Harry's legs, his hands immediately seeking and kneading his ass. He grins when Harry's sputtering dissolves into moans. He shifts, sitting up a bit again so Harry can wiggle and slide until he's on his knees. He lightly slaps an ass cheek and grins again when Harry glares at him over his shoulder. "Just wanted to see..." he chuckles and runs a hand over where he slapped, rolling his eyes at bit. It isn't even pink. He soothes the area with his tongue after brief flash of inspiration. He chuckles when Harry yelps then moans quietly, dropping his face and muffling the sound in a pillow. He decides to see how loud he can get Harry to be.

This should be fun.


	2. Are you...?

Draco pauses in the kitchen doorway, his mouth hanging open in a stupid gape as he stares at Harry. "What _are_ you eating?" he asks, wrinkling his nose at the large concoction held precariously in Harry's hands. From what he sees littering the plate and poking out, he's a bit nauseated.

"A sandwich," Harry mumbles through his mouthful. He pokes a slice of pickled egg back in and raises an eyebrow at the gaping blonde. "What?" he says and takes another bite. Oh, the peanut butter and the mustard were good together. He hums happily licking a glob of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth and then his thumb.

Draco tries not to gag and looks away. "Oh Merlin," he breathes and leans heavily against the doorjamb. "I thought it was bad when Hermione lived off of those little-" he pauses and slowly turns his head back to look at Harry again, gaping stupidly again. " _Why_ are you eating that?" he asks, eyes slowly narrowing.

"'Cause I was hungry and it's good," Harry says through another bite, a clear 'duh' expression on his face as he chews. He shifts his sandwich, poking another errant ingredient back in. He doesn't want to miss any of the candied pecans. He rolls his eyes when he notices Draco's face pale dramatically. Honestly, he thought the blonde was pale before but now he looks... well, dead would be a really gross way to describe the pallor, but definitely pal _er_. 

"Sort some things did ya?" he asks, smirking. He was going to tell Draco the -hopefully- good news as soon as he got home but he had been starving and saw food before his blonde husband. Food won; but he had fully intended to search out Draco the second he finished his sandwich.

Draco nods dumbly and walks into the kitchen on wobbly knees, gracelessly falling into a chair next to Harry. "So, why you went to the healers this morning...?" he asks but trails off expectantly, finally able to make his voice work. Sure, he's assuming all sorts of things but he doesn't want to react and get excited until Harry confirms. _If_ he confirms. Eating bizarre -no, _disgusting_ \- things doesn't automatically mean a damn thing; Harry's food choices have always been suspect in his opinion.

"I felt like shit," Harry says flatly and rolls his eyes. He sets his sandwich down, trying not to stare at it longingly when he pushes it out of Draco's line of sight and licks his fingers. "You know that." He grins when Draco gives him a flat look. "Oh, fine. Be that way. I didn't believe you when you said that I could be pregnant but the healer confirmed it. So, after a bit of a private freak out, ta-da! We're gonna have a baby," he says, throwing his arms out and watching Draco carefully, his intense gaze belying his carefree words.

Sure, he had laughed his ass off when Draco said he could be pregnant; they were always careful, so it was unlikely. He only went to the healer because he was tired of vomiting all the time and hating the smell of his shampoo all of a sudden. Allergies was his brilliant idea -and he just wanted the healer to agree with him and not Draco. Well, he was wrong and Draco was right. Not that he isn't happy about it but... well, it's unexpected. 

"Love?" he asks, reaching out tentatively and placing a hand on Draco's arm, wiggling it a bit to get the blonde's attention. The blank staring is starting to freak him out a little...

Draco blinks furiously and leans forward, his eyes flicking over Harry quickly before landing on his stomach. "Really? Honestly?"

"Yes, the healer confirmed." Harry says slowly, wondering if his blonde recently got wanged on the head. It's the third time he's confirmed it and he feels the urge to start going back into his 'private freak out' mode again... Draco's face is still slack and his eyes have that unfocused look he gets when he's thinking something through -thoroughly.

Draco slowly grins and leans forward, almost falling out of his chair, and wraps his arms tightly around Harry, nearly choking him. "Oh! That's..." he trails off, unable to articulate just how wonderful it really is. He pulls back and beams a happy smile at Harry, unable to do anything else. He laughs when Harry gives him a return, mostly relieved, smile. "Well, this explains the squishy tummy," he says poking the mentioned area. His smile falls when Harry's eyes tear up and he looks away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Oh hell. "I didn't mean... uh... It's not noticeable..." he trails off lamely.

Harry doesn't say anything, just pushes his sandwich further away, pushes his chair back and stands. He doesn't look when he feels Draco's hand wrap around his wrist. He sniffles quietly, hating the prickling of tears and insecurity that rushes through him. He's not looking forward to _months_ of this unstable, hormonal shit if it's going to be like _this_. "What?" he mumbles, feebly wiping under his eyes, when he feels Draco pull gently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a bad way," Draco says softly, feeling like an utter bastard for making Harry cry. He pulls gently again and smiles when Harry allows the movement and shifts closer, settling into the space between his spread knees. "Honestly," he says, running a hand over the soft area that's caused the last few moments of sadness and tears. He's been enjoying the slow changes in Harry's body, but quietly. Since quitting the Aurors, Harry didn't exactly 'let himself go' but he doesn't run around like a madman either. Harry is more... cuddly and he adores it.

He looks up at Harry and smiles tentatively, unsure what to say that won't cause another rush of tears. He's had little experience with pregnancy hormones and he's mostly done a shit job of keeping his head. He made Hermione cry nearly every time she visited when she was pregnant with her first child. It was horrible and even not talking to the witch didn't help; she still had cried, convinced Draco hated her again and was avoiding her.

Harry wipes his eyes again, finally feeling a bit more in control of himself. He looks at the top of Draco's head, embarrassed for being such a weepy git. "Alright," he says softly, trying to believe Draco. Sure, their intimacy hasn't changed at all the past few months; if anything, Draco fondled and squeezed him _more_. Surely it isn't something as bizarre as Draco _liking_ his 'squishy tummy', though. 

"Oh fine," he huffs, rolling his eyes in defeat when given large, silvery-grey, puppy eyes. He loathes the day Draco mastered that look and used it against him for the first time. It's such an un-Malfoy look, it nails him every sodding time and he's powerless to refuse. He jumps a bit and tries not to squeak when hands firmly clamp on his ass, kneading and pressing him firmly into Draco's body. His hands automatically come up to slide into Draco's hair as the blonde presses his face, firmly, into his belly.

"Can I also admit I love your ass, too?" Draco asks, peeking up at Harry through his lashes. He grins devilishly when Harry blushes and nods a little, his breathing picking up already. "I do, it's so... I don't know, squeezable," he murmurs and squeezes again, less harshly this time. He nuzzles his cheek against Harry's belly, a warm thrill going through him when he realizes there's a baby in there. He sighs and kisses Harry's stomach through his shirt.


	3. Fun with fluff.

"Are you seriously eating that?"

Harry looks up and grins, licking fluff off of his lips and fingertips. It doesn't do a damn thing and he resorts to scraping at it with his teeth as well as licking at it, working the sticky stuff off in a slow progress that's quite enjoyable. "Yeah, it's not gross," he defends and continues enjoying his peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich. He could kiss Hermione's mum for introducing him to the combination. He hums softly as he chews, his free hand resting on his small belly bulge.

"No, it's quite normal," Draco says brightly, chuckling, and sits next to Harry. "That's why I'm asking," he grins. Obviously, he's not complaining. He's seen some truly disgusting things go into his husband's mouth recently, making him wonder just what sort of baby he was growing in there. From the random cravings, he had started to think possibly some strange sea-creature/goat hybrid. He snorts when Harry elbows him and leans in close. "Can I have a bite?" he asks playfully, leaning forward expectantly, his mouth already opening.

Harry pulls his sandwich away, cradling it protectively by his chest and scowls. "No. Fuck off."

"Oh. Alright," Draco says, pulling back in surprise. He quickly shakes off the urge to count his fingers. "I was... kidding," he says slowly. A dark glare is his only response and he shifts over on the sofa, making a mental note never to try to get food away from a pregnant Harry. Ever. Again. "If I make my own, will you want another?" he asks, hoping it'll be an effective peace offering.

Harry immediately perks up, smiling. "Yeah, that'd be brilliant," he says and stuffs the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. He licks the sticky white goo off his fingers, scraping the more persistent spots with his teeth again. He pauses, noticing Draco is staring instead of getting more sandwiches. He grins and draws his tongue slowly up his finger, moaning softly as he draws his tongue back in his mouth with a flick. The reaction is immediate; Draco roans softly, his pupils dilating. Draco is too easy at times. He snickers when Draco's eyes follow every move and he shifts closer, sandwiches forgotten for the moment.

"You should get the fluff," he says lowly, eyes flicking down to Draco's crotch meaningfully. He snorts when Draco bolts off of the sofa and into the kitchen. The door doesn't even stop swinging before Draco is rushing out with the jar and back in his previous spot. He takes the jar with a grin and spins the top off with a flourish.

Draco watches, his breathing getting fast and shallow as Harry dips a finger into the sticky white stuff. He doesn't even care it's unhygienic when that finger slowly disappears into Harry's mouth again. "Oh, fuck," he whispers. He eagerly tracks every move Harry makes as another scoop of the sweet goo goes into Harry's mouth and he moans softly, his tongue and teeth working the sticky whiteness from his finger. Merlin, it's sinful and he's dying to feel Harry doing that to him. He holds his breath when Harry's gaze is focused solely on him, his bright green eyes occasionally flicking down to his crotch. He groans softly as three of Harry's finger disappear into his mouth, coming out clean. He watches, his eyes tracking the pink tip of a tongue as Harry licks his lips thoroughly. 

"Pants off," Harry says softly. He nearly giggles when Draco scrambles to comply but the laugh dies quickly when faced with a very turned on Draco. "Hmm," he says and slowly pulls another large dollop of fluff out of the jar. He looks between the flushed cock and his finger, as if he didn't know which to choose. He mocks an 'aha' expression and slathers the goo on Draco's cock, dropping a large, sticky dollop right on the tip. It's a bit odd since Draco doesn't need the added flavor—he’s delicious all on his own—but he's willing to try mixing flavors. He looks up when Draco hisses softly. "Alright?" he asks coyly, working the fluff on with a bit of difficulty. It's thick and sticky but finally glides on as it warms with Draco's heat.

Draco nods. "Yeah, just... fuck, do _some_ thing," he mutters. It's not-so-surprisingly erotic to have his cock covered in the sticky substance, waiting for Harry to clean him off. Just the way he smeared it on, his eyelashes lowered demurely as he focused, had sent hot flashes of heat through him. Liberal amounts of pre-cum had mixed with the white gooey fluff and he could see Harry licking his lips, his expression a perfect picture of anticipation. Fuck if that wasn’t going to push him dangerously close to blowing it already. His head drops back onto the sofa when Harry gives him a feigned coy look and swallows him nearly whole, humming with pleasure the moment his lips close around his cock. He lifts his head so he can watch, enjoying the look of surprised pleasure on Harry's face as he sets to cleaning him off.

Harry is methodical and thorough; his tongue swirling, sliding and sometimes lapping lazily at every spot on his cock in his determination to get every smear of fluff. And drop of pre-cum, his pointed tongue flicking over his slit every-so-often. He nearly grimaces, knowing he's going to be a sticky mess but not exactly caring at the moment. His hips arch up into Harry when that wicked tongue swirls around him, briefly dipping in the slit in a search for more elusive sweet goo. "Shit," he breathes, trying not to slam down Harry's throat. He groans when Harry's throat works around him.

Harry pulls off and uses just his hand for a moment before gently wrapping just his lips around the still-sticky, darkly flushed tip. He swirls his tongue and gently rubs his thumb up and down the underside of Draco's shaft as he sucks, his cheeks hollowing. He looks up to see Draco's head bent back again, his neck and chest flushed pink. He pauses long enough to get Draco to look at him and he resumes the slow, wet slide down Draco's cock, pleased to see he's gotten Draco's full attention.

His eyes flutter closed when Draco's control weakens and his hips start moving forcefully. He doesn't exactly hate when Draco does that, losing all sense of himself and starts to fuck his face. He shifts up to his knees and slides his hands along the outside of Draco's thighs, he rubs and digs his finger tips in –his touch meant to encourage the blonde to 'get going'. He groans, humming with pleasure again when sweetness and the unique salt-tangy, musky flavor of Draco mixes on his tongue as he rolls the flavors around in his mouth. He squirms, a bit surprised he's nearly ready to come in his pants. He relaxes his throat and eagerly prepares for Draco's thrusting.

"Oh fuck," Draco grunts, his hands fisting in Harry's hair. He should control himself better but he _can't_. Harry willingly signaled him to do what he wants and he can only let go and do it. He tries to gentle his thrusts, the lust coiling in his belly makes it hard to be rational, though. He grunts once more before coming, his fingers tightening in Harry's hair unconsciously. He looks down and is a bit surprised to see Harry arching and gasping; he can tell by the way he's squirming and how his brows are slightly scrunching together he's come, too. The growing wet patch on his jeans confirms it and he grins, cradling Harry's cheeks and gently raising his head off of his lap.

Harry's eyes slowly open and grins back. "You taste better without fluff," he says, his voice a bit hoarse, and he smacks his lips together loudly.

"Mm," Draco hums absently. He waves a hand around until he hits Harry's shoulder and blindly reaches down to pull Harry back up onto the sofa. He settles Harry in his lap and kisses him, languidly and thoroughly, a hand twisted gently in his hair. He pulls Harry close and just spends a few moments shamelessly feeling Harry up, chuckling as Harry wiggles and laughs softly, breathlessly. Even in his lazy and pleasure-heavy-post orgasmic state, he's enjoying the warm soft feel of Harry under his hands.

His hands pause and he laughs softly. "Damn. I forgot the sandwiches."


	4. You're *my* dumpling.

"Dumpling?"

Draco pushes the plate forward and watches Harry. He's impressed as his husband deftly pinches the remaining dumpling between his chopsticks and brings it to his mouth, biting into it with a soft hum of pleasure. He props his chin on his palm and just watches Harry enjoying his food. Honestly, it's more than a little erotic. The sounds of pleasure. The way Harry's tongue pokes out to catch stray drops of the brown sauce. Even his bright green eyes are half-lidded as he chews. It's fucking hot. He shifts a bit in his seat, questioning the logic of eating out when he knows how he can get watching Harry eat. It's a bit embarrassing to wrestle with a semi in the middle of a family restaurant.

"Are you going to eat that?" Harry asks, pointing to the spring roll in front of Draco. He grins when Draco shakes his head and pushes the plate towards him. He tries not to hum with glee when he pulls it apart and munches on the fried roll. It's just... so good. "Thanks," he says, trying not to be too gross as he speaks around the bite of spring roll. He rolls his eyes when Draco nods blankly, his grey eyes focused on his mouth. He doesn't get how Draco can get off watching him eat but it doesn't stop him from enjoying his food. He pats his belly, letting his hand linger a bit, feeling pleasantly full. 

Thankfully, he isn't obviously pregnant, his belly still quite subtle, and he's happy they can still go out to Muggle restaurants for a bit yet. He's, again, eaten more than his share but it's not something he always does. He's happy to use the 'eating for two' excuse on the rare occasions he indulges.

Draco jumps a bit when their waitress comes over. He wordlessly pushes his tiny teacup towards her when she asks if he wants more. He nods a 'thanks' and takes a sip, the hot liquid distracting him for a moment. One more sexy hum, moan or groan from Harry and he'd probably do something very illegal or very embarrassing.

"Dessert?" he asks, setting his teacup down. He grins when Harry looks at the menu with a soft expression of longing. It's probably a little evil to ask; he knows Harry can't say no to the fried doughnuts and is probably having a furious internal debate with himself. He knows it for a fact when he sees Harry's hands slide around his waist, stomach and down his thighs in a subconscious effort to gauge his weight. He smirks victoriously, hiding it behind his teacup, when Harry sighs with resignation. He hates the little battle but he loves to witness the result; a happy Harry, humming and moaning softly as he nibbles small pieces of fried, sugared dough.

Dammit. His semi is edging towards 'full on hard-on'. He can't regret the suggestion, though, and just plans on staying a little longer to wait out his problem.

"Yeah, why not?" Harry finally says, looking around for their waitress. He probably shouldn't indulge himself, but the little doughnuts here are so good. He looks to Draco and nearly rolls his eyes at the hot, anticipatory look on the blonde's face. 

As if by apparation, she's there at their table again with a cheery smile. "One order of the doughnuts, please." He laughs when the waitress looks to Draco and shakes his head. "All mine!" he chirps, making her laugh (well, giggle in a feminine high pitch) before she bustles off. He watches the small woman disappear into the kitchen and playfully glares across the table. "Why did you say that? You know I can't resist those," he says, whining a bit. He runs his hands down his sides again, scowling when Draco notices and sends him a heated look that makes everything tingle and heat pool in all his sensitive places.

He nearly rolls his eyes; he's married to a damn pervert.

Draco shrugs. "So? It's not like we won't work it off later," he says with an exaggerated leer and another heated look that makes Harry's eyes widen a bit and squirm in his seat, his thighs and ass tingling. He chuckles when Harry's cheeks pink and he nods once. Part is him saying such things in public and part is Harry's ridiculous idea that he's not as sexy as he was. He snorts, eyeing Harry with a heated look once again, his eyes flicking around to wander Harry's body. "Definitely will," he adds, nodding firmly.

He sits back to wait, eagerly anticipating the moment when Harry feels compelled to lick all of the sugar from his fingers.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Draco gently pushes Harry against the door the moment it closes. He's been practically vibrating the last 10 minutes, since Harry had thoroughly, and teasingly, licked every grain of sugar from his fingers. The vivid mental image of Harry's tongue wrapping around his fingers and sliding around makes him shiver, a soft groan coming out of his mouth. He wraps his fingers around Harry's wrist and brings it to his lips. He slowly draws his tongue along his index finger, sliding the digit in his mouth and wrapping his lips around it for a moment before drawing it back out. "I think you missed a bit," he murmurs, sliding his tongue back in his mouth—a hint of sweetness lingering.

"I don't think so," Harry smirks. "I was very thorough."

Draco chuckles lowly, leaning forward to press their bodies closer together. His angles his hips out a little so he doesn't press against Harry's rounding belly too much. "Mmm, yes, you were. You little tease," he whispers, his lips brushing against Harry's.

"I'm not a tease, love. Teases don't follow through," Harry says in a cheeky tone. He's wound up, too. Between the self-cleaning techniques and Draco's heated looks, he's ready to start rutting against his blonde like a shameless crup. He rolls his eyes when Draco only chuckles knowingly and shifts his hips in maddeningly slow, but quite ineffective, rolling circle. He grabs two fist-fulls of blonde hair and yanks Draco's mouth closer, kissing him almost hard enough to have their teeth clack together. He groans, the sound muffled by Draco's mouth.

Such a good start, but not quite enough. He groans again, in frustration this time, when he feels Draco pulling away.

Draco pulls back, a bit of concern worming into his lust-hazy brain. "Alright?" he murmurs. It sounded like a pleasurable groan, but he can't seem to help being a bit overly cautious.

"Yes," Harry sucks his teeth in annoyance. "I'm not fragile, love. I need you," he ends, a hint of a whine in his voice as he wriggles against Draco. He huffs when Draco pulls back a bit more and only continues to give him an assessing look. He wiggles against Draco again, making sure his husband can feel his arousal. He smirks triumphantly when Draco's eyes flutter closed and he voices a groan of his own.

Since he's started showing, Draco's touches have gentled but doubled in frequency. Which is wonderful and always makes him feel treasured, adored, love. But right now, he needs something more. He reaches down and cups Draco, squeezing the bulge filling the front of his pants gently but insistently. "C'mon, love. I need you," he breathes, leaning in so his breath washing over the sensitive skin of Draco's neck. He sees Draco's resolve crumble a bit more and he mentally smirks. He can up the ante; he's worked up enough to bring out the big guns. He can't always get into dirty talk, but right now he'll try anything to get Draco to toss him onto their bed and pound him into the mattress with that unrestrained passion that makes his body heat and thrum.

"I need you," he repeats, leaning in close, their chests touching. He slides his hands along the defined muscles in Draco's chest and moans softly. "I want you," he murmurs, his lips ghosting along Draco' neck, goosebumps popping up and making the blonde shiver. Hands tighten around his hips and he hisses softly. "Fuck, yes. Gods, I need you to work me open. I don't care if you use your fingers or your tongue, I just want to be wet and opened wide –ready to be pinned down and fucked until I scream. Can you do that, Draco?" he murmurs, molding himself against Draco.

He can feel the rapid thud of Draco's heart beat, see the way his pulse flutters in hollow of his throat and the glazed look in his silvery eyes. He moans a bit more loudly than he needs to when Draco surges forward and kisses him, his hands almost roughly kneading his ass at the same time. It's fan-fucking-tastic and he tries to lead Draco to a softer surface. "Oh gods," he moans when he's picked up and the next thing he knows he's naked and being pressed down onto their sofa. He scrambles to his knees, wiggling his bum at Draco when the blonde takes too long to touch him again.

"Fuck, Harry," Draco groans, practically throwing himself at his tease of a husband. His hands aren't still as he kisses down Harry's neck to his back, his tongue gliding out and playing in the shallow dimples just above Harry's ass before dipping lightly into the very top of his crease. He dips his tongue, sliding it between those perfect cheeks with a slow slide. He repeats the move, pressing in just a little more each time he glides over the twitching center. He hears a shaky exhale and smirks, but doesn't stop. Harry knows what happens when he opens that mouth of his and says such things.

Draco isn't a tease either.

His hands gently slide around Harry's hips, caressing the soft skin of his hips before settling on his growing belly. Harry wiggles back against him, seemingly unwilling to let the moment get tender. He can only smirk in response, his movements elsewhere picking up intensity, even as his hands stay gentle. By the time he's easing inside of Harry, they're both too worked up to go slow. He has a moment of concern for Harry's well-being (even if the healer has said, numerous time, that sex is perfectly fine and safe, he worries) before he's moving with increasing speed.

Harry can't seem to form any words, but doesn't seem to be needed. Each time he wants to moan 'faster' (but only gurgles), Draco does. Each time he wants to scream 'harder' (but only whimpers and pants), Draco does. His arms give out at some point but he's just as happy to fold his arms under his chest and rest his cheek on the cushion below him as Draco moves above him. It feels like Draco's sprouted extra hands, he doesn't know which way to move since he's being thoroughly touched from every angle, the touches constant and always moving. He can only just push back with each thrust, keeping up as best he can but all too soon Draco's ministrations are too much and he's arching with a loud sound of pleasure.

Draco knows his movements are erratic, but he can't help it. It's all just too damn good and he's coming right after Harry with a strangled gurgling sound that's highly unfitting a Malfoy but he's unable to make his throat work any other way. He flops onto Harry's back, unable to move for a few moments. Harry isn't complaining but he doesn't want to squish his Harry. He eases his hips up, groaning softly as he slips out and a slick, wet trail follows his cock. He stares at the dribble slowly sliding down Harry's thigh and sighs softly with complete satisfaction. He wiggles a bit, grunting softly with the effort, until he's on his side and pressed up against the back cushions of the sofa. He pulls Harry down, wrapping his arms and legs around his sweaty, sated husband with a happy sigh.

Harry hums, nuzzling into Draco's chest as he's squeezed gently, hands coming to rest on his belly. It's nice to have a cuddle after a fantastic shag. He doesn't ask for a bowl of ice cream, even if it would be the perfect addition. He doesn't want to move and he doesn't want Draco hopping up to get it, either. He can get ice cream later.


	5. Ice cream... no pickles?

"What's a—Chunky Monkey?" Draco asks, eyeing the container in Harry's hand. It looks Muggle and doesn't sound at all appealing. Surely they didn't actually use monkeys...? He can't imagine that even putting them in ice cream would make it appetizing.

Harry pauses half-way through licking his spoon off. "The best ice cream flavor. Ever."

"What's in it?" Draco asks, leaning a bit to peek into the small carton clutched firmly in Harry's hand. He holds his hands up when Harry quickly jerks the small container around to his side with a glare, cradling it protectively. "I don't want any, I was only asking." He really should know better by now. He only gets between Harry and his food if he wants pain. Or a weeping Harry.

He watches with confusion when Harry takes another large spoonful of ice cream and then spits something out. "What... are you doing?" he asks, watching as Harry turns his hand over and the thing falls into a pile of other things.

Harry sighs and lets his spoon go to rest in the pint. "It's banana ice cream, chocolate bits and walnuts." He wrinkles his nose at the last one. " _That_ was a walnut," he says and pokes the offending item. "I hate them, so I spit them out."

"Erm. Why eat it if you don't like walnuts?"

Harry glares and spoons another bite in his mouth. "Because everything else is orgasmic and it's easy enough to spit them out," he explains as if it's obvious. "Duh," he adds, unable to help himself. He nearly giggles at Draco's affronted look. "I usually vanish them, but—" He shrugs, running a hand over his swollen belly. Doing any sort of magic this far into pregnancy isn't recommended; even simple spells he can normally do wandlessly and wordlessly.

"Ah," Draco says with a nod and carefully slides into the over-stuffed chair behind Harry, kissing the top of his head once he's settled. He vanishes the pile of damp walnuts, a bit grossed out but refusing to say anything. "How are you?" he asks quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on Harry's shoulder.

Harry pauses in his task and leans back. "Alright I guess."

"You guess?" Draco asks softly, running his hands up and down Harry's sides, his thumbs pressing into Harry's lower back and making small circles. Harry makes a pleasured groan, leaning into his hands and he grins into the back of Harry's head, continuing his massage.

It's one of the spots that causes Harry the most discomfort and he's happy to be able to help with something that causes Harry discomfort (or outright pain). It's one of the few parts of pregnancy he's not so fond of; that feeling of inadequacy when he can only do so much. He settles himself in for a thorough massage session, enjoying it almost as much as Harry.

He doesn't get to fondle his husband as much as he'd like and he's quite happy to take advantage of the situation. If his hands wander a bit, Harry doesn't say anything about it. He lets his hands wander, waiting for Harry to answer him.

Harry sighs and lowers his ice cream to rest on his belly. "I'm fat. Grumpy. Starving. Oh, and I practically live in the bathroom now. But otherwise, I'm alright."

He doesn't mention 'horny', knowing it'll only give Draco ideas. Honestly, sometimes he doesn't know who's more stuffed full of hormones these days with the way Draco shamelessly fondles him at every opportunity. He's not complaining, though, even if he's quite sure most of the flat surfaces in their home would be (were they able to).

"Oh," Draco says, wisely keeping any amusement out of his voice. He waits until Harry picks up his ice cream again and rubs his hands along Harry's sides and belly. "You're not fat," he murmurs.

He can't, and won't, argue with the other things. Trying to cheer up a hormonally grumpy Harry is rather dangerous anymore. He likes all his bits and pieces where they are, thankyouverymuch.

He sighs when he hears a snort, not at all surprised he can hear disbelief and amusement in the short sound. "Honestly, love. You're pregnant. And sexy."

Harry snorts again, nearly getting Chunky Monkey up his nose. "Sexy? You're insane," he accuses with an amused snort. "My ass is huge, my thighs—Ugh, don't even get me started! I can't even see my own prick anymore!" he huffs. He feels like a whiny teenager, but he can't seem to be able to help himself apparently.

Draco buries his face in Harry's neck, unsuccessfully muffling his amused laughter. "Merlin, if I said any of that, you'd castrate me."

"Yup," Harry chirps happily, spooning another bite of ice cream into his mouth.

This isn't the first time Draco's called him sexy but he's still slow to go along with that idea. Especially since he remembers what he looked like only a few short years ago. Wiry muscled, smooth stomach and a perky ass. While he didn't exactly think Draco to be that shallow, to only be attracted to him and love him for his looks, it was hard to think the blonde could like the extra bits.

Of course, it's not like Draco fakes his enthusiasm; he'd know if he no longer turned the blonde on. He just has to bend over anymore and he's poked in the ass by his randy blonde—usually with the clothed bulge straining against his pants. He is starting to just deal with the fact he's probably never going to see that body again, though.

Harry sighs and flops against Draco heavily. "I hate this. I want him out," he grouses, gently poking his bulging belly.

Draco chuckles and smoothes a hand over where Harry poked. "Soon, love." He stops chuckling, reality sneaking in. "Not that I want it to be _too_ soon." Harry isn't due for another month; there is no way he wants to start a crying episode by pointing it out. The thought of such an early delivery sobers him, though.

"I know, I know," Harry grumps and wiggles a bit, trying to sit up. He gives up with a huff and hands his ice cream container to Draco, watching as his husband leans over easily and places it on the table in front of them. Skinny, fit, blonde bastard. Draco settles back and starts his massaging again and he hums in relieved bliss, practically melting into Draco's lap.

He turns enough to glare over his shoulder. "Are you serious?" 

Draco shrugs and grins unrepentantly. "I did say you're sexy," he answers. He shifts his hips and presses his growing hard-on into Harry a bit more. "What?" he says and laughs. "I've got a lap full of sexy husband, I'm going to react." He raises an eye brow, a clear 'deal with it' expression on his face.

Plus, has his hands full of sexy husband, too. It's just not something he can control; he touches Harry, he gets turned on. He wiggles his eyebrows, amused and completely smitten when Harry tries to glare again, the effect ruined by pinking cheeks and a look projecting his own interest. He chuckles and wraps his arms around Harry as tightly as he dares. Harry can doubt his appeal all he wants but he can't argue with the proof poking his ass.

"Fine," he sighs, relaxing his grip a bit. "Any thoughts about what you want to do after the baby is born?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his cheek between Harry's shoulder blades. He's merely curious, wondering if Harry has given any further thought with what he wants to do.

Harry hums and relaxes further into Draco's embrace. "Not really. I don't want to rush into anything. I—I'd like to stay home with James," he admits softly.

He's pretty sure Draco has other ideas about how they should raise their son, but he wants to do it himself. He's a bit nervous (scared out of his mind, more like) about being a parent and he realizes it might be logical to have a nanny of some sort but it's something he wants to do himself. He's had a little bit of practice being around Teddy. And Hermione's daughter. He thinks he can manage.

"That's a wonderful idea," Draco nods, kissing the spot under Harry's cheek. He feels Harry relax but he doesn't ask why he was tense to begin with. He's a bit apprehensive about being a father, he can only imagine Harry is still anxious as well. Neither of them had ideal childhoods but, to his mind, they can only do better for their own child. "And after that?"

Harry shrugs. "I dunno. I kind of liked the idea of teaching. Doing the DA all those years ago was kinda fun, even if was a bit nerve wracking." He turns a bit, trying to look over his shoulder at Draco. He can only see the top of his blonde head and he sighs softly. He clears his throat and sees Draco peeking up at him, an odd expression on his face. Oh well. Might as well just say it. "I don't think that'll be for awhile yet. At least not until James is in primary school."

"Or our youngest," Draco adds, grinning widely.

He wiggles his eyebrows when Harry only stares, a stunned expression on his face. Right. Maybe when one's spouse is currently pregnant with their first child isn't the best time to bring up having more. Of course, he doesn't think he could be blamed. There's just something very appealing about Harry waddling around full of his child. He knows it's not practical to want that all the time.

"What?" he asks, the picture of innocence.

Harry blinks a few times, his hand coming up to rub at his belly. He wiggles and squirms until he's sitting astride Draco's lap, ignoring Draco's disgruntled expression for the change in position. "You want more kids?" he asks.

He realizes they hadn't really talked about it before. He certainly does, but he hadn't thought to see what Draco thought on the matter. He definitely wants more than one but probably not as many to rival the Weasleys (much as he adores his large, adoptive family).

"Mhm." Draco nuzzles his nose against Harry's shoulder. "I feel a bit like one of those cave Muggles, grunting and wanting to keep you barefoot and pregnant," he says with a grin, laughing when Harry snorts and pushes his face away. "Of course, I suppose I'd draw the line at six. I think any more than that and I'd want to castrate myself."

Harry snorts again, laughter bubbling up. "Six?" he chokes out. "Merlin, I'd castrate you myself." Well, maybe not. Six seems like a nice, even number. He folds himself up to rest against Draco's chest, making a soft happy, contented sound when Draco's hand gently caresses his belly.

His sigh turns into one of slight annoyance when another hand slides down and palms his ass. Incorrigible bastard. "Merlin, we're liable to have an even dozen, you randy bastard."

"Well, I can't argue against that. Making the babies is definitely the best part."

Harry's groan dissolves into laughter. He really shouldn't be surprised Draco seems a bit preoccupied with sex. "True that," he has to agree. "So, you don't mind that I'd rather stay at home?" he asks quietly, getting the conversation back on track.

"No, not at all, Harry." Draco squeezes Harry tight enough to make him squeak. "I'm glad, truly. It's not like we need the income," he says dryly. Neither of them have to work but he's gotten used to doing something every day, no longer content with just lounging and glancing at financial reports at the odd moment. He blames Harry, of course, but he wouldn't change it. "And who better to care for our child?"

Harry flushes, feeling warm and content. He's sure he'll be flooing Molly quite frequently over the next few months (er... years), but from her earlier enthusiasm, he knows she won't mind. He wraps both arms around Draco's neck, resting his head on his shoulder. "Love you," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on Draco's neck.

"And I love you," Draco says softly.

Of course, he ruins the moment by shifting his hands so one is in Harry's lap and the other is clamped on his ass again. "What?" he puts on the innocent expression again when Harry jumps and gives him a look. He chuckles when Harry's eye roll shifts and they migrate to the back of his head instead when his hands move in tandem. He can't help himself and he's quite pleased to feel Harry writhe against his hands and a breathy little sound to puff against his neck.

He also can't help himself from letting the hand on Harry's ass wander up his hips and sides. He lets his fingers sink into the soft areas, sighing happily as he touches all his favorite places.


	6. Damn rabbit food...

"What is that?" Draco asks, pointing at the long green thing in Harry's hand. By the crunch it makes as Harry bites it, it sounds appetizing even as his husband grimaces slightly as he chews. He feels a bit bad Harry's not enjoying it, but the face he's making wrinkles his nose adorably, though.

Harry stares morosely at the stalk of celery and sighs mournfully. "Celery," he mutters, emphasizing it with a crunch.

"Ah," Draco says, striding over and settling himself in the seat next to Harry. "Looks dreadful, if your face is anything to go by." He has heard of celery, but never as a sole food source. It's always in things.

Harry nods sadly, taking another bite. "It is rather." He sighs and crunches through his celery stalk in quick little nibbles, determined to finish it. He doesn't hate it but he just wishes he didn't have to eat it.

"So," Draco says slowly, unsure if he wants to actually continue or not, but he's quite curious. "Why eat it, love?"

Harry snorts and gives Draco a sour look. "Because."

"Because, why?" Draco presses. He doesn't understand how Harry can make himself do unpleasant things; it's just a foreign concept to him, even after all these years of knowing the other man.

Harry sighs and plucks another stalk from the damp paper towel laying on the table, glaring at it reproachfully. "Because, it's supposed to be good for you. Fills you up with no calories or some rubbish," he mumbles through another bite. Ugh, he hates the stringy bits most. Muggles found a way to remove seeds from watermelons and oranges, why hadn't they figured out how to get rid of the stringy bits in celery? It might make the damned vegetable a bit easier to eat.

"And that's supposed to mean you're to eat it?" Draco asks, still confused as he watches Harry stuff the rest his celery into his mouth and chewing it rapidly. He sits up a bit when realization dawns. He scowls a little, unsure how to address the issue now. He knows Harry isn't happy with his weight but he wishes his husband would remember he's not overly heavy. And that he just had a baby. He doesn't think Harry has to change a damn thing about himself, least of all his diet. He knows his husband ordinarily eats healthier than he did, but that probably added to Harry's frustrations since it seemed to help so little. His eyes trail down Harry's body, willing himself to see it as Harry does but he can't.

Harry rolls his eyes and turns in his seat enough to look at Draco. "Yes." He's not sure if he can admit aloud that he's more than a little worried he'll blow up like a shorter version of his uncle or cousin. He shudders, the image already flitting through his brain. Ugh.

"I see. And if I think that's positively mental?"

Harry snorts softly and pokes Draco in the chest, "I'd say 'shut up' because you're biased."

"Damn right," Draco says proudly, reaching out and running a hand down Harry's side, down his hip and landing on his thigh. He scootches closer, encouraged when Harry only gives him that adorable questioning look. It's been weeks since they've done more than make out like randy teenagers or a hurried hand-job or two and he's desperate for more contact. "You're perfect, love," he murmurs, sincerity heavy in his tone.

Harry slowly blinks, his hormones short-circuiting his thought processes. "'m not," he mutters, nibbling on his last stalk of celery. He's far from perfect, in lots of ways, but it warms him to hear Draco say it, nonetheless. He sometimes wishes Draco wouldn't encourage him but he's also grateful his husband doesn't tease him or put him down for the extra weight. It's better that Draco likes it but he wishes anything he tries actually makes a difference. He goes willingly when he's gently eased from his chair, settling across Draco's lap with a soft, resigned sigh. "Not squishing you?" he asks in a cheeky tone, wiggling around.

"No," Draco grins, sounding smug. He wraps his arms around Harry's waist, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder for a few moments as he gathers his thoughts. James is nearly 12 weeks old and they haven't had any real time to themselves since. He understands a baby will change things but most of the problem is on Harry's end. He doesn't pester his husband about it, though, and just enjoys the moment of closeness. "Are you worried about something... specifically? Is that why you haven't touched that Treacle Tart Hermione brought?"

Harry looks away, his gaze immediately going to the box in question. It's just sitting innocently on the counter but he looks at it like it's filled with spiders. "Maybe," he finally answers. He's been nearly drooling at the chance to have a piece but wants to avoid sweets from now on. The preservation charm on the tart only seems to taunt him; if the damn thing went bad, he could throw it away guilt-free.

"She made it herself, Harry," Draco points out. It's probably a low-blow tactic, but he's curious about Harry's motivations. He's reluctantly proud of the will power Harry has to be able to avoid this favorite dessert but he thinks it's a bit unnecessary. What's life without the small pleasures?

Harry swallows thickly, feeling guilt niggle at him. "I didn't know that," he murmurs, looking at the tart again. He had thought she bought it from a bakery. A hand-made Treacle Tart... how wonderful is Hermione? He wipes at his face, annoyed he's still affected by lingering baby hormones. He looks longingly at the white box, his resolve weakening. "I don't want to look like a little land whale," he finally mutters.

"You..." Draco trails off, trying not to snicker. Now he realizes—Oh, his silly husband. "You will never look like a little land whale," he says firmly, kissing along Harry's neck. He's only seen Harry's cousin and uncle, once, in passing. There's no way, in any sort of reality, Harry would ever look like that. Not only does his Harry have self control, he actually seems to be getting used to himself, even if he still whinges about it. Not to mention he's quite sure they don't actually share any family traits, since Harry is only related to his aunt by blood. (From what he remembers of the woman, equine animals came to mind, not marine mammals.)

Harry makes a scoffing noise even as he tilts his head a little to allow Draco's lips to go wherever his husband wants to place them. He shivers lightly, enjoying the ministrations even as he mulls over Draco's encouraging words. "I dunno, love," he murmurs thoughtfully. "It's probably in my genes to slowly blow up until I could be in a zoo."

"Nope," Draco repeats, popping the 'p', before going back to nibbling at Harry's shoulder. "Won't happen. I shan't allow it."

Harry snickers. "Right, like you can stop genetics."

"Well, no," Draco says slowly, leaning up. He purposely feels up all the soft spots on Harry's body, ignoring his own response to the action but making sure Harry sees (and feels) his very appreciative reaction. He grins when Harry flushes and gives a resigned sigh, ruining the glare he's trying to give. "You're too conscientious to allow that to happen." He nods and smiles when Harry's eyebrows rise up and a considering look flits across his face. He gives Harry a smug little grin, knowing he's right (and that Harry knows he's right warms him in more ways than one). He laughs delightedly even when he's smacked playfully.

-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-

"Huh. That is surprisingly erotic," Draco says softly, leaning against the doorjamb as he watches Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes but smiles, pleased, nonetheless. He adjusts his grip on James, shifting the baby to a more comfortable position. He glares a little, without much heat, when he notices Draco still watching him intently. He wants to squirm with self-consciousness but he doesn't want to disturb James' nursing. "Stop it," he says softly, ducking his head and nuzzling James' pudgy pink cheek.

"No," Draco says simply, smirking with delight. He sidles closer and perches himself on the arm of Harry's chair. He runs a finger gently down James' cheek before cupping Harry's. "I just wanted to check on you two... Then you had to be all sexy and I got distracted." He grins unabashedly. "How are you?" he asks, sobering, and slides a hand through Harry's hair. It's messy as ever and perfect. He smiles when Harry automatically leans into the touch.

Harry shrugs a little, fighting the urge to wince when James' nibbles a bit too hard. "I'm alright."

"How alright?" Draco asks suggestively, leaning forward and cupping the back of Harry's neck and squeezing gently. He grins unabashedly once again when Harry gives him a look that's half-disgruntled and half-resigned. He hasn't wanted to rush sex since James was born but he's quite sure the Healer had said anytime after 8 weeks was fine. Depending on Harry. It's been 12 and he's... antsy. He doesn't want to rush if Harry's not up to it but he still has to ask; he needs to know.

Harry sighs softly and shifts a half-asleep James to his shoulder and lightly pats his back. "I'm alright," he repeats with an eye roll, very aware where Draco's thoughts are. In the gutter, the utter pervert. He's been hoping to put his husband off for a bit longer; at least until he lost more of the baby weight. But he's been having a hard time fending off playful wandering hands and heated looks. Not to mention he's getting anxious himself, probably from the lingering hormones. He misses the wild sex just as much, really. "It hasn't been that long."

"Twelve weeks, Harry," Draco points out, almost sounding pained. He refuses to admit it comes out as a whine and Harry has the grace not to mention it either. He can't remember any time in their relationship they've gone that long without intimate contact. Not even when they first started dating. "I won't rush you, I'm just curious." He takes another moment to study Harry with their son, pride and love making him feel flushed and warm. And turned on. Harry looks tired, but not overly so, and he's hoping their gently forced period of abstinence can be over. "My wrist is killing me, love," he says blandly.

Harry glares up at the blonde. "Do you have to talk that way in front of our son?" he hisses quietly, restraining the urge to cup his hands over James' tiny ears.

"He has no idea what I'm saying... and he's sleeping," Draco points out with a snicker. He follows Harry with his eyes as the other man stands and eases their son into his crib, smiling softly at the reluctant but proud and completely besotted look flitting across Harry's face. They've only started having James in his own room this week and so far, only Harry is having a problem with the arrangement—but even he's adjusting to the separation. "C'mon," he says softly, gently wrapping a hand around Harry's wrist and tugging.

Harry nods and follows Draco, casting a gentle Lumos, an orb of soft amber-tinged light floating in the corner as a night light. He closes the door until it's only opened a crack and nearly squeaks when he's pressed against the wall. "Draco," he breathes, barely able to get the second syllable out before his mouth is covered by Draco's and he's kissed fiercely enough to make blood roar in his ears and his knees weak. Fuck; what had he been waiting for? He grabs Draco, probably painfully, by the hair and kisses back, arching into him.

Draco has to force himself to pull back. Now isn't the time for fast and hard, not after 12 weeks; now is the time to, slowly, get reacquainted. He gentles his kisses, his touch lightening as his hands roam over Harry's body. He has to consciously pull himself back as his hands stroke across Harry's ass and down his thighs. He groans softly, pulling away from Harry's mouth and kissing down his jaw and neck.

"There's no rush, love," he murmurs. He smiles when he feels Harry's hair tickle him as his husband nods and the grip on his hair loosens. Fingers gently stroke down his neck and shoulders. He leads Harry to their room, unable to separate long enough to make sure they get there without tripping. Luckily they make it in one piece and without having to separate. He sighs softly, nuzzling Harry's neck. There's no hesitation in Harry's movements or any shyness when he slowly strips his husband of every piece of clothing. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight of a flushed, turned on Harry and wraps his arms around him again. He takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of Harry pressing against him, all soft and hard at the same time, before easing Harry onto his back as they hit the bed.


	7. Baby foods are for babies.

"What are you doing?" Draco asks, watching as Harry eats food off of James' tray with slow, deliberate movements.

It's actually kind of adorable to watch the way Harry carefully pinches a piece of something between his pointer finger and thumb and pops it in his mouth, crunching through the piece of whatever-it-is with quick, little bites.

Harry turns a little and grins. "Helping Jamie eat," he says and goes back to what he was doing.

He pushes a few pieces of cereal towards his 8-month-old son, making encouraging noises as he carefully demonstrates how to pick them up. He snickers softly when James only smacks both hands into the small pile, scattering cereal around. He repeats his demonstration, getting James' attention; bright green eyes watching Harry's every move.

"What are those?" Draco asks, pointing to the small rounds of dry cereal. He watches, a burst of warmth and pride going through him, as James carefully pinches a piece of food between his chubby fingers and brings the item to his mouth. He laughs when Harry starts nearly gibbering and praising the little boy and pushing more of the beige rings towards the drooling, gurgling baby as James slaps the tray with chubby hands and squeals with delight.

Harry pushes more of the cereal into James' reach when two chubby fists smack at the pile again, managing to actually grab some. Now that the little boy has figured out what to do with them, he's no longer flinging them about. Well, as much.

"Cheerios. Muggle cereal. Excellent for babies," he says to Draco, a bit distracted. He smiles widely when James gets another few pieces into his mouth, gurgling happily and waving his pudgy fists around as he gums the cereal into submission. Harry laughs with delight and picks a piece off of James' cheek, grimacing slightly at the slimy texture.

"Are they?" Draco asks, pulling a chair up and sitting next to his husband in front of their son. He's never heard of such a thing before and finds himself doubting the greatness of a Muggle product—just a bit.

He pokes a piece of the cereal with an outstretched finger, feeling the firm, dry texture, and frowns slightly. "Isn't that going to choke him?" he asks, looking at Harry with concern.

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. "No, he's fine." As if to prove his point, James grabs a handful of cereal with a happy squeal and shoves them into his mouth, his lone tooth and copious amounts of drool mashing the cereal with ease. "See? They sort of smush apart and this way—" He pauses and pushes more errant cereal bits closer to his flailing child, "—he can do it himself."

"He's a mess," Draco says dryly. James is covered with various bits of food, half chewed pieces of cereal stuck to numerous areas of his face, neck and hair. He can't tell how messy James' hair _actually_ is though, since their son has inherited Harry's messy black locks. He can't tell how much is his son's natural 'finger-in-the-electric-socket' look and how much is dried food.

He's still quite proud of James' accomplishment, of course, and gives his son a bright smile. He laughs when it's met with an enthusiastic, toothless grin and happy babble from his messy child.

Harry rolls his eyes and gives James an adoring look. "Of course he is," he says and munches on a few more pieces of cereal. "It takes awhile to perfect the art of feeding oneself." He looks over at Draco and grins. "You were probably adorable at this age, mashing food into that beautiful hair," he says and smoothes a few errant strands of said hair from Draco's face with his index finger, giving Draco a warm smile.

"Shut up," Draco says and rolls his eyes right back at his husband. "I was always impeccable—even as a child, I assure you."

Harry laughs, a clear mental image of toddler-Draco sitting poised and proud in an ornate highchair, daintily eating whatever wizards had instead of Cheerios; a pudgy little pinky outstretched primly as he sedately ate each morsel, chewing thoroughly between each bite.

"Probably were, you uptight prat. No doubt avoided the mess of birth and just appeared on a cloud from the heavens instead of being squeezed out of his mummy." He snickers at Draco's affronted look, probably for putting horrifying images of his mother's womanly parts in his head.

Harry pours more cereal onto James' tray, snacking on more of them before James can get to them and make them all soggy.

"I can't believe you'd steal our son's food," Draco chuckles, watching as Harry crunches through his pilfered snack.

He looks Harry over and grins. Harry has still not been able to lose all of the 'baby weight' and he's more than a little glad. He doesn't like that Harry will still pout sometimes as he stares in a mirror but he definitely likes what he sees. Sure, he liked Harry's body before but he just as thoroughly enjoys the sight of it now. Probably more so, for some unknown reason. He moans softly when he mentally pictures Harry naked; his soft (yet still delightfully firm) thighs, belly and ass.

He scoots his chair closer and strokes a hand down Harry's leg, sliding up and down a little to fondle his thigh. He squeezes it, enjoying the extra give, and shuffles a little closer. He pouts when his hand is gently slapped away.

Harry huffs, annoyed Draco's fondling him in front of their son. Insatiable bastard. "I'm not stealing his food—we're _sharing_. He doesn't mind, do you Jamie?" he asks and said toddler squeals with delight and offers a handful of slightly soggy cereal to Harry. He gives Draco a smug told you so look and takes the offered food with a 'thank you, Jamie', slyly levitating it into the trash and eating fresh, un-drooled on cereal.

"And stop that," he says, pushing Draco's hand away again as it sneaks towards his ass. "Have a little self-control in front of our son."

"No." Draco goes back to trying to feel up Harry. He manages to get a hand up the soft t-shirt before Harry wiggles away with a breathless 'Stop'. He chuckles and slides his hand down the back of Harry's pants. "What? He can't see this," he defends and firmly kneads the plump cheek in his hand, only a little disappointed the thin cotton of Harry's boxer-briefs keeps him from feeling warm, soft skin. He moans quietly and nuzzles into Harry's neck to muffle the sound. He really doesn't want to moan (especially like _that_ ), in front of their son but he can't help it.

"You're right," he says and slowly pulls his hand out. "Sorry." Any more and he'd be doing a lot more than just feeling Harry up. As appealing a thought it is to throw Harry on the table and do wicked things until Harry's a whimpering, writhing mess, he simply can't see that going over well with James right here.

Draco looks at his messy son and grins as James' tongue pokes out and he blows raspberries. He mimics the action, making James squeal and wave his fists about in baby-ecstasy.

Harry glances at Draco from the corner of his eye and laughs softly at the image of his proper husband blowing raspberries at their son. It's quite adorable. Draco notices him looking and wiggles his eyebrows at him and he barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. He's married an utter pervert. He grins, not-so-secretly thrilled about it.

He leans closer to Draco, allowing his lips to graze the outer shell of his ear. "Keep it in your trousers until after bedtime, hmm?" he whispers. He stifles a laugh when a shudder goes through Draco's body. He can't help chuckling softly when Draco nods emphatically. He watches as his husband gets up in a hurry, leaving the room and rushing up the stairs. He's a bit confused by the sudden departure until the muffled sound of the tap running makes him grin and shake his head a little.

"I'm sure that's my cue to get you out and into the bath daddy's running now," he says to James. James only looks up and babbles something that almost resembles a question, waving his cereal filled fists about.

Harry checks the time; it's barely past 6, a bit early for bedtime. He sighs. "Well, we'll just have a nice long bath then, hmm?" James gurgles in reply, pushing more cereal into his mouth. Harry smiles at him, cooing again. He hears the water shut off and sighs. Luckily, James is done eating his fill, only playing and mashing the cereal now. He sets about picking cereal pieces off his son and cleaning the area, knowing Draco is eagerly awaiting them. Horny bastard.

Later, he barely gets James' door closed before he's pounced on. "Draco!" he hisses quietly. He shuffles down the hallway, trying to glare at his husband. "What the hell?"

"It's bedtime," Draco whispers, approaching Harry again. He grins and latches on to Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and leading him, backwards, down the hall towards their bedroom. "I'm not sleepy, but we need to be in bed. Like, an hour ago." He pauses long enough to kiss Harry, nipping at his bottom lip and running his tongue along it.

Harry huffs softly but allows himself to be lead, his body already tingling pleasantly with anticipation of what he knows to be coming. He's stopped just outside their doorway and warm lips settle over his. He hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck. The kiss doesn't stay sweet and loving long, Draco quickly deepening it and running hands down his back and ass.

He pulls away with a moan and buries his face in Draco's neck, arching and twisting when Draco's mouth settles on his neck and hands cup his ass firmly, slender fingers kneading.

"Inside," Harry breathes. It's getting more difficult to be quiet the more Draco's hands move. He stifles himself against Draco's neck as hands move again, fingers fluttering against his sensitive nipples and the tender areas right by his ribs. He wants to touch Draco in return but he doesn't get the chance before he's being moved and nearly tossed around by his enthusiastic husband.

Draco groans and moves them into their room, shutting the door and taking a moment to throw a silencing charm at it. He adjusts it when Harry glances nervously at the door, making sure they could hear James but not the other way around. He drops his wand and goes back to his earlier task, tasting Harry's neck and sliding his pants and underwear off.

He groans softly when the denim pools at Harry's feet and his hands touch bare, soft skin. He's on his knees and mouthing at Harry's soft belly, his hands sliding around to fondle and caress Harry's ass. He looks up and smirks at Harry's exasperated expression. "You're sexy. Deal with it, love."

Harry doesn't answer but just wiggles his head in what he hopes Draco takes as a nod, feeling quite unwilling to argue. Yeah, he's dealing with it, slowly starting to get comfortable with himself. He doesn't want to argue, of course, and he is aware Draco is sincere in his words. Even so, he _can't_ argue with his husband, especially when Draco carefully spins him and a hot, wet mouth is kissing down the small of his back and a slick tongue wiggles and glides wetly between his cheeks. Hands gently but firmly continue their fondling, pulling his cheeks apart a little.

 _Fuck_. He always turns into putty whenever Draco does this; his tongue sliding, wriggling and working him open. His head flops back and he's very glad Draco is propping him up, strong hands sliding around his hips to firmly plant themselves on the fronts of his thighs, as his knees go wobbly. He reaches behind himself enough to slide a hand into Draco's hair and hold on, tightening his grip a little when Draco moans softly in appreciation. The sound sends vibrations through his entire body and he moans, his head rolling around so his chin is resting on his chest.

He's not sure which is turning him on more; the slick slide of Draco's tongue insistently working him open. The wet, panting sounds echoing up from between his thighs from Draco's harsh, excited breaths as he does so. Or the filthy sounding moans coming from Draco amidst it all, letting him know Draco enjoys it just as much.

Harry takes one step and flops onto the bed, Draco following him—not even pausing in his ministrations. He whimpers and grabs the sheets with both hands, fisting the material tightly, as he rolls his hips and presses back into Draco's face eagerly.

Draco grins at the mindless keening sounds he hears coming from Harry and with one last flick of his tongue he leans up and summons the nearest bottle of lube. He catches it and works his fingers into Harry's relaxed body, groaning softly as his fingers slide into slick, wet, warmth.

He flips Harry when he's convinced he'll explode if he has to wait another minute and slides inside before his husband is even fully on his back. He runs his hands up Harry's belly and chest, swooping down to circle his hips, caressing the area with his fingertips. He moans softly, eyes closing at the wonderful feeling as his hands return to grip Harry's thighs. He looks, mesmerized and insanely turned on, as his fingers sink into the soft flesh. Fuck, he loves Harry's thighs; he wishes he could just bury his face in them and _live_ there.

Harry arches into each thrust, panting and moaning quietly with each stroke that fills him and sparks pleasure through his entire body. Draco always finds each pleasure point on his body —he could probably do it blindfolded. His eyes flutter closed when one pale, slender hand slides down his thigh and pushes up _just so_ , and the other twines tightly with the hand resting above his head.

"Draco," he murmurs, leaning up and sighing happily when Draco is right there, warm lips and hot breath.

He pants and moans into the blonde's mouth and he's not sure how much longer he can hold out against the mind-melting pleasure being wrung from him by expert ministrations and the fierce longing he sees every time he looks up at Draco. He shudders as Draco's elbows tremble and he drops to press their slick bodies together, trapping his cock between their bodies. And, oh _yes_ , just like _that_ ; the friction is exquisite. He arches with a guttural moan when he comes.

Draco grunts and his toes curl as pleasure uncoils sharply, his orgasm barreling though him. He twitches, thankful Harry's eyes are closed at the moment and his blissed-out husband misses the stupid-blank expression of pleasure he knows is on his face. Harry can say his 'come face' is sexy all he wants, he knows he looks like an idiot— he can _feel_ it.

He relaxes slowly, gently pulling out with a slick squelching sound that always makes him moan softly and twitch with interest, and he rolls gracelessly, bringing Harry with to rest on top of him. He sighs and squeezes his half-asleep husband, kissing him when he's able to work Harry's face up. He lets his hands wander all over Harry's body, chuckling softly when Harry giggles breathlessly and squirms against him weakly but doesn't make him stop.

He's pleased Harry doesn't appear to give a toss they're sprawled out, shamelessly naked, on top of their bed. He grins, continuing his fondling, and laughs softly when he's slapped at, Harry's sleep-fuzzy voice chastising him for touching him. Apparently, his husband is too sleepy to deal with hands on his nipples and ass any longer. He wants to pout but he's well aware of how sensitive those areas are; that _is_ why he likes to fondle them so much.

Oh well.

He can wait until Harry's had a nap for another go.


	8. Thanks for ruining my long love affair with fried chicken...

"Thigh or breast?"

Harry taps a finger on his chin, looking over the options. He ignores Draco's immature snickering as best he can, even though he was tempted to do the same thing. "Thigh," he finally decides. He tries not to make impatient grabby hands as Draco slides a plate with his fried chicken across the table towards him. He moans softly as he inhales the delicious aroma. Oh, he loves this stuff. He ignores the stare from Draco and takes a large bite, humming as he gets a mouthful of flavorful meat and breading. "Merlin, that's good," he says around his mouthful. He hums happily, nibbling small bites off.

"I know," Draco says, finally pulling his attention away from Harry eating and picking at his own piece of fried chicken. He likes it well enough but he enjoys watching Harry eat it more. It's one of his favorite things to do—watch Harry eat. He's especially enjoying the joy of fried chicken, mostly because his husband eats with his fingers and has to lick at his fingers frequently as he nibbled and ate with his usual enjoyment. Absently, he picks the fried coating off with his fork and tears a small piece off. He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth."What?" he asks, noticing Harry is giving him a strange look.

Harry laughs and gently wiggles his half-eaten piece of chicken towards the blonde. "Using a fork is just weird." He looks around to make his point. Draco is the only weirdo eating his fried chicken with a plastic fork. He ponders the wisdom of pointing out that the forks are only for the side-dishes but doesn't. Draco really won't care.

"I don't correct _your_ eating habits," Draco says, a slightly haughty tone in his voice. He pointedly eats his bite off the horrid little plastic fork, smirking when Harry huffs at him and rolls his eyes. He's aware Harry's only trying, in his way, to help him fit in with his surroundings. But he won't eat with his hands; not only is it so... plebeian, but he's not exactly all that sure how clean his hands are. Harry had been too impatient to sit down with their food to allow him to wash. Or use a charm, being around Muggles and all that.

Harry shrugs. "Fair enough. Weirdo," he mutters and busies his mouth with chicken and coleslaw, hopefully keeping himself from saying anything else to irritate Draco. It's not exactly rare for the blonde to get huffy and pout, even in public. A high-pitched giggle gets his attention and he turns towards his wiggling son. He laughs and pushes his plate towards James, sharing his mound of mashed potatoes, when the little boy demands food and sits forward in the high chair making grabby hands at it. He rolls his eyes when Draco carefully folds a plastic spoon in the toddler's other hand. He snickers when James peers at it curiously before completely ignoring it.

"He eats like you," Draco says, trying to sound annoyed but smiling with fond affection. He winces a bit when James shoves a fistful of mashed potatoes in his face, his whole hand disappearing into his mouth and coming out almost clean. "I don't know why I bothered," he says and takes the spoon back with a sigh when it's only used to tap the table and knock things onto the floor. He makes a face when James squawks over the loss of his 'toy' and pushes a biscuit at him. As he hoped, James' indignant cries cease and he happily mumbles a 'thank you' while he smashes the biscuit on the table.

James makes a happy sound, similar to the sound Harry makes when eating sweets, when the biscuit breaks apart into many pieces . He proceeds to carefully pick up small bits of it, tucking them into his mouth at a rapid pace, chewing a bit in between only when Draco gives him a look. It doesn't take him long to demolish the fluffy thing.

Harry glares across the table. "I do not eat like _that_ ," he hisses, pointing at their son. James has another biscuit and he's trying to eat this one without smashing it first. He pauses for a moment, trying to remember if he actually ever has eaten so… messily. No; he's even been able to control himself around Treacle Tart. He snorts when Draco just wiggles his eyebrows and grins lewdly. "Pervert," he mutters under his breath. He chuckles when James smashes a handful of his mashed potatoes between his fingers, watching the pale mess ooze between his fingers, babbling happily and bouncing in his seat. "How adorable is that, though?" he says, pointing at the messy toddler –who's now trying to eat all the potatoes from in between his fingers—and grins.

"Ugh. Not adorable. _You're_ cleaning him," Draco says, sliding his chair back a bit when he sees James eyeing the container of gravy. He sends a grateful expression to his husband when Harry nudges the container away, subtly enough so James loses his interest in it and doesn't fuss when he's denied the pleasure of sticking his hand in it (or spilling it all over the table). The little boy focuses back on eating biscuit remnants and small pieces of chicken that Harry hands him. He clears his throat and moves his chair closer to Harry's. He strokes a hand down Harry's lower back.

Harry turns and gives Draco a questioning glance. "What is it?" he asks, trying not to sigh, when Draco continues to stroke and subtly fondle but not meet his eyes. He knows when his husband is trying to wheedle (even if the blonde refuses to believe he stoops so low as to _do_ such a thing) and that's exactly what he's doing now. The lack of eye-contact is worrisome... There aren't many reasons he can think of that would make Draco that wary.

"My mum."

Harry nods slowly, picking at another piece of chicken. Damn that blonde if this makes his stomach turn and he can't stomach fried chicken ever again. "What about her?" he asks calmly when Draco doesn't continue. He distracts himself by focusing on James, watching his son eat pieces of chicken rapidly. He tears into another piece, placing them in front of the little boy, trying to ignore the pleading look he can feel on the side of his face. If he looks, he'll just agree to whatever Draco asks. He can _feel_ those damn puppy-eyes…

"She'd like us to visit. With James." Well, _visit_ is less accurate than _meet_. His son is nearly 19-months-old and has yet to met his grandmother (or grandfather). He isn't exactly upset by that and he knows Harry would prefer James never did (which he knows, with Harry's ways of thinking about family, is rather telling of how his husband feels about his parents). He doesn't exactly disagree with his husband... but family is family. "She requested we stop by tomorrow for lunch." Again, _requested_ is the more polite way to phrase the way she had demanded to see them. _All_ of them. She made it quite clear Harry was to join them, as well. Either she expected Harry to wiggle his way out of going or convincing him not to go at all.

Harry sighs softly again and keeps his focus on James. His son babbles happily when he sees him looking and offers him a handful of smashed biscuit. He accepts it with a smile and James goes back to eating mashed potatoes and bits of chicken with his fingers. "Fine. It's not like we _can't_ go," he mutters in a huff.

He still doesn't like either of the elder Malfoys. They've made their (low) opinion of him quite known; he's not looking forward to their scrutiny, especially because now they'll focus that snooty attitude on his son as well. He has a bit of respect for Narcissa because of her brave moment all those years ago but he doesn't _like_ the woman. She's too rigid and withdrawn, even with Draco. As for Lucius... he'd happily blast the man to pieces and see those bits sold on the black market for potion ingredients (or Kneazle chow). As far as he knows, the feelings are all quite mutual.

He really doesn't want either of them around his son. He looks up and sighs again at the cautious, hopeful smile Draco is sending him. How can he refuse that? He can't so he finds himself nodding; once.

"Thank you, love," Draco murmurs, planting kisses on the back of Harry's hand and up his arm. He doesn't care they're being stared at. He grins at his son when James bounces in his seat and giggles happily, clapping his messy hands with unrestrained delight. "Are you excited to see your grandparents, my little love?" he asks in a coo.

He frowns a little when James' excited bounces and happy noises stop and the little boy's face crinkles up into the beginnings of an emotional outburst. He looks to Harry, ready to ask if he's somehow brainwashed their son against his parents already and realizes he looks just as stunned. And amused— the cheeky wanker. He's closer so he gently guides James out of the high seat and snuggles the softly sniffling little boy, grimacing a little as small, mashed potato-y hands clutch at his shirt.

Harry runs a hand down the back of James' head, smoothing his wild hair as he murmurs soothing words of comfort along with Draco. "That was weird," he says, trying not to look as amused and downright excited as he feels. He really doesn't understand the reaction but he knows it won't change their plans for tomorrow. With any luck, James will have a horrible tantrum and they'll be forced to leave early when Draco's parents won't stand for such uncouth behavior.

Oh _darn_.


	9. I didn't expect that on the menu...

"Are you—Are you seriously eating? _Now_?"

Harry looks up from his sandwich and slowly nods. He swallows and gives Draco a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah, I didn't want to go to your parent's house hungry and embarrass myself by stuffing my face." Plus, he doesn't know if he'll even _like_ the food Draco's parents are going to offer. He's fully expecting weird, rich people food. Weird, rich, _pure-blood wizard_ food. He tries not to shudder at the thought. He breaks off a small piece of his sandwich and gives to a grabby James, kissing the top of the little boy's messy head when he babbles a 'tank you'. He smiles, watching as James kicks his feet happily as he gnaws on his piece of sandwich. "Sorry."

Draco waves off Harry's apology with a smile; his husband has a good point. "Ah, well in that case..." He grabs a small bag of chips, pulling it open and crunching one before laying the open bag on the table in front of Harry. James immediately makes a grab for it, squealing with happiness that his spot on Harry's lap offers him a great vantage point. He pouts when the bag is pushed out of reach, looking up at Draco with big, pleading, green eyes. "Ah ah—" Draco tuts at his fussing son, stoically ignoring the impossibly large, green puppy-eyes being aimed at him. "You'll make a mess and we haven't time to hose you off."

Harry snickers and offers James another bit of bread, looking up when Draco runs a hand over his hair and kisses his forehead. He finishes his sandwich and claps the crumbs off his hands. He checks the time and tries not to pout and try his hand at his own puppy-eyed look. Or cringe. "Time to go. Wouldn't want to be late."

"No; we certainly wouldn't," Draco drawls and helps Harry up. He can't help the quick fondle and pinch he gives Harry's ass as he stands and walks past, grinning unabashedly when he's given a scandalous look as his husband squirms out of reach. He waves Harry in front of him and just watches as Harry heads towards the floo, clutching James to his chest like a security blanket. Or maybe a shield. With a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get them all in the floo together, knowing Harry wouldn't want to go on his own _or_ arrive last.

They pop out of the floo, James sneezing adorably and looking around with wide green eyes. He leans further into Harry's body, his little hands tightening in Harry's robes. He's not normally a shy child but the place is massive and intimidating enough to have him clinging like a little monkey. He leans his head against Harry's shoulder, his eyes flicking everywhere, trying to take in the whole room. "Big," he mumbles against his fist.

Draco hums in agreement, looking around. Yes, he can understand his son's fascination; the room is bigger than their entire home. He inclines his head in greeting when his mother and father enter the room in a silent, graceful billowing of robes. He waits for them to approach. "Mother," he says and kisses her cheek. "Father," he says, inclining his head again. He pulls Harry to his side, running a hand down his side to calm him, and lets his hand rest on his hip. "You know Harry." His parents both nod politely.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Harry says quietly. He wants to burrow into Draco's side but he doesn't. He shifts James to his hip and waits for Draco to introduce their son. He probably won't be able to be as pleasant, or polite, as his husband. He bounces James when he makes a quiet fussing sound, his hands trying to fist in his hair, and looks over to Draco.

Draco stifles a snicker. "Mother, Father, this is our son, James," he says, nodding at the little boy now peeking shyly at the two strangers from Harry's shoulder. He tickles James under the chin, hoping to get him to look up, and the little boy giggles and grabs at his finger with an amused, slightly chiding 'Da!'. He beams proudly when his parents take a good look at his son.

At first glance, James is all Harry; messy black hair and bright green eyes. But the shape and angles of his little face are already slightly more pointed and angular, taking after the Malfoy part of his genetics. He adores seeing his eye shape but Harry's brilliant coloring. He tries not to glare when his parents eye the little boy like one would an animal at auction. He feels Harry shift subtly, angling James away from their assessing gazes. He angles his body a bit, a possessive protective gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by his parents. Not that they relax and stop being utter assholes...

"He's lovely," Narcissa says, bending at the waist slightly to get a closer look. James goggles up at her, his green eyes wide and curious. "Hello James," she says, managing a small smile. It's difficult to stifle the urge to coo when the little boy smiles shyly at her and waves a tiny, chubby fist towards her. She deftly dodges the wet fist obviously attempting to grab at her long hair dangling teasingly and smiles again when it goes back into the little boy's mouth as he gnaws on it briefly, bouncing a little in Harry's arms.

She notices the way Harry is cradling the child and she tries not to frown. "Did you not bring your nanny?" she asks, subtly looking behind the trio, looking for some sort of sling or… baby holding device of _some_ sort. She glances towards the floo, as if expecting another person to join them.

Draco clears his throat. "No, no nanny, Mother."

"Nanny elf?" Lucius offers, trying not to inject too much scorn into his tone. He's appalled, naturally, but he promised Narcissa he'd 'behave'—whatever that means.

Draco can feel Harry's nervous gaze on the side of his face. They had discussed it (and quickly dismissed the idea) but he's a little worried Harry is going to think he'd just go along with whatever asinine things his parents say to avoid an argument. He doesn't care what his parents think; he adores that Harry cares for James. And he does a wonderful job of it. He gives Harry a comforting, gentle squeeze.

He smiles, "No, no nanny elves, either. Harry takes care of Jamie." He sends his parents a flat look, daring either of them to question them. They both just incline their heads, brows ever-so-slightly furrowed in disapproval. He nearly snorts; like he needs their approval. If he did, he certainly wouldn't be standing where he is right now with Harry and his son by his side.

Harry holds James and stands quietly, observing the Malfoys with their unspoken conversations and odd little rituals. He stands proud when he notices Lucius' gaze settling on him with clear disdain. He tries not to use James as a shield or an item of security but he does, ducking his head a bit to take a deep lungful of James' soft baby scent and trying not to look like he's avoiding Lucius' piercing silvery glare. It's starling that the same eyes on Draco look at him with warmth. It nearly makes him shiver to see the difference; he doesn't like it. He wants to hide his face again when Lucius' gaze sweeps down his body and he fights the urge to squirm or smooth his robes in an effort to hide his generous size. He presses closer to Draco shamelessly but as subtly as he can.

"Well, I was told dinner was at seven," Draco says, feeling irritated and annoyed that his parents have managed to scare his son and freak his husband out in under 5 minutes. He catches his father glaring pointedly at Harry's slight belly and generous robe size and sneers at him. He'll take quite a bit from his parents but he won't allow them to belittle his Harry. Thankfully, his mother hasn't forgotten her manners and leads the way to one of the less formal dining rooms. He hangs back and places a calming hand on the small of Harry's back, pressing in close so he can murmur quietly in his ear, "Fuck him, Harry." He tickles James' chin when his son looks up and gives him a happy grin.

Harry nods, unable to stop his mouth moving into a smile at Draco's words (or remind Draco of appropriate language in front of their son). He hadn't been sure if Draco had caught his father's icy glare. He really shouldn't be surprised; Draco notices everything. "I'll try to remember he's a stuck up git, love," he says cheekily. He knows it's Draco's father but he doesn't feel nearly as bad about it as he probably should. He grins when Draco chuckles, nods and kisses his temple.

He pauses as he enters the dining room and feels his stomach plummet when there's no high-chair for James. Didn't the elder Malfoys know they were bringing a small child? He's pretty sure Narcissa had been quite aware of that fact. He mentally shrugs—he's no stranger to perching James on his lap and eating that way. It tends to be messier and they both generally wear more food than they eat but he doesn't care. The Malfoys obviously won't mind, seeing as there is nowhere else for his son to sit. He continues on towards the table, nodding along to James' excited babble about the large room and inquiries about dinner.

Draco sighs, noticing the lack of a high-chair as well. He knows it's his parents' subtle way of disapproving of the child being at the table. He softly tsks, not even bothering to hide the sneer directed at his parents. He knows they think James should be in the kitchens with his nanny or nanny elf (or with Harry—probably hoping to rid themselves of two nuisances at once). He pulls out Harry's chair and smiles proudly when Harry tucks himself into the seat and settles James on his lap. He kisses both dark heads and takes his seat next to Harry. He gives his father a pointed look when he glares at James sitting on Harry's lap.

"Draco," Narcissa says quietly, unsure how to handle the child situation now. She's not comfortable dictating how the young men should rear their son, but it just isn't proper to have a small child in the dining room. Until they had table manners, that is. Her son turns to her, a hint of a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. It makes her want to frown or reprimand him, but she keeps her calm. "Would you like... a chair for James?"

Draco looks at Harry, who shrugs one shoulder slightly and gives a soft shake of his head. "No, thank you. He's fine," he says, giving his mother a bland smile. Either they hadn't counted on Harry just sitting with James or they hoped to make one of them have to ask for 'special treatment'. Or maybe they hoped Harry would be embarrassed and go eat elsewhere with James. He wants to sigh, already annoyed with their subtle games and jabs.

Dinner was fun. Draco can't remember the last time he's enjoyed a meal with his parents so much. Harry had kept James on his lap and the little boy had proceeded to eat with his usual gusto. They also discovered James had an immediate dislike of caviar, shrimp and cucumbers. James didn't toss the food on the floor, in his usual style, but simply offered them to Harry or Draco with a questioning noise. He still isn't sure what to make of the sounds, knowing James had quite a few words in his vocabulary by now (talking in full—albeit short—sentences, more often than not) but he doesn't force it issue; James apparently being shy around his parents isn't something he's all that surprised to see.

James only offered a small cucumber sandwich to Lucius once; the resulting scowl on the older man's face had James pulling away with a quiet whimper and snuggling into Harry's chest. It took nearly all of Draco's willpower not to snicker when James' aimed a baleful glare across the table once Lucius' attention returned to his food. James hadn't offered anything to either of the elder Malfoy's since and he ate dessert with a quietness that had Harry and Draco sharing glances as they watched James eat.

Narcissa's request to hold James hadn't gone over well. The little boy had gone stiff and almost immediately leaned out of her arms (nearly tumbling from the witch's arms from the sudden move), looking pleadingly between Harry and Draco, his hands out. Draco had rescued him, not even bothering to offer his mother an apologetic look as he settled James in the crook of his arm. He didn't protest or scold his son when James still didn't settle, with a soft but insistent 'Ma' as he leaned away and towards Harry. He sidled closer to Harry and let his husband take their son, knowing the pair of them were probably at their limits of their discomfort and needed the mutually comforting touch. Indeed, once James settled against Harry's chest, they both relaxed quite a bit.

By the time they're ready to floo home, James is fast asleep and snuggled against Harry's shoulder, one pudgy hand lightly gripping his dark hair and the other loosely clutching his robes. It's the first time his grip has loosened since returning to Harry's hold.

"Well, this was fun," Draco says politely, kissing his mother's cheek and nodding to his father. He politely ignores the way his parents share a look and focuses on Harry, a hand gently running through James' messy hair as he leans down to kiss his temple. He smiles when James makes a sleepy sigh of contentment and murmurs 'Da' softly. "Ready, love?"

Harry nods and gives an awkward little bow to Draco's parents, trying not to mumble when he bids them good night. "Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." He turns and heads into the floo without waiting for an answer, or veiled jibe more likely, and lands in his own living room with a relieved sigh. Merlin, if he never has to see Draco's parents again, it'll be too soon. He stares, confused and a little concerned, when Draco doesn't immediately follow after him. He just heads upstairs to put Jamie to bed, figuring Draco needs a private moment with his parents.

Hopefully to remind them, in his own special way, not to be such assholes next time. _If_ there is a next time... And he's not all that ashamed to admit he hopes there isn't.

"Alright, what is it?" Draco asks, turning from the now quiet floo to look at his parents. He glances between them and just barely manages not to scowl when they both shift a bit on their feet. "What?" he repeats, a bit louder.

Narcissa clears her throat softly and steps closer to her son. "Nothing, darling. We're just... upset we haven't met your little family sooner."

"That would be of your own doing," Draco reminds them coolly. His gaze flicks between his parents, not at all surprised to notice his mother looks a bit chastised but his father almost looks bored. "You didn't even attend our wedding."

Narcissa nods once, a regretful frown flitting across her face briefly. "Yes, well. We've been known to make mistakes before," she says wryly, smirking a little when Lucius hisses softly and Draco snorts a laugh. "James is beautiful, darling. And Harry is... quite charming," she says politely. She doesn't know the young man well but she can admit he had indeed captured her son's heart and proved himself a very competent parent, even if he did (unwisely) eschew the use of nannies or house-elves. "Will you visit again?" she asks, trying not to beg but willing to if needs must.

"I'll see how Harry feels about it," Draco says after a moment of thought. "You didn't exactly ingratiate yourselves to him," he adds dryly. Or James—his son had seemed quite upset when faced with both of his parents.

Lucius sniffs. "It isn't our problem if the little Half-Blood doesn't have the proper manners or upbringing to know how to behave. He's practically a Muggle," he adds snidely, face pinched with disdain.

"Hmm," Draco hums noncommittally, turning on his heel. He really doesn't feel the need to stand here another moment trying to, again, defend his husband to his father. Even if it's unfounded bullshit, he knows when he's faced with an impossible endeavor. He'd been rather foolish to think his father would tone down his elitist bullshit when provided with the next Malfoy male heir. He really should have known better—the man is impossible to please; always had been, always will be. He turns when there's a pained _oomph_ and just catches sight of his mother's hand returning to her side. "I'll floo you. Later—once we've discussed it."

Narcissa nods and watches her son disappear in a flash of green. The moment the flames die down, she rounds on her husband and smacks him in the chest. Hard. She so does enjoy the moments she can react freely. "You idiot!" she hisses, hitting Lucius' chest with each word. "We'll never see our grandson again if you can't control your foolish mouth!"

"I refuse to curb my tongue in my own home!" Lucius says, annoyed with himself when he sounds rather petulant instead of indignant and stern. "I don't see the big deal about that... child," he says, waving a hand dismissively towards to floo; indicating his grandson. "He doesn't resemble a Malfoy at all," he says with a sniff, lifting his chin stubbornly.

Narcissa laughs softly, partly at Lucius' stubbornness and also because she's remembering the precious little boy. "Oh, he does indeed," she insists, tsking at her husband. It's clear the child's features are all Malfoy but with Potter's striking coloring; Lucius is merely being difficult. He's a most breathtaking child and she longs to see him mature and grow. "I'm warning you, Lucius," she says softly, her voice low with warning. She stands taller when Lucius looks appropriately wary; it's nice to see her husband has paid attention and learned over the course of their marriage that's she's not a witch to be trifled with. "I won't have this family divided any longer. You'll regret the day I lose contact with my grandchildren."

"Grand _children_?" Lucius repeats, his eyes narrowing slowly as he studies his wife. He doesn't think she's implying Draco being guilty of infidelity... "Is that why the Potter boy is so fat?" he asks after a few beats of silence.

Narcissa huffs and smacks Lucius again, hard enough to make her own hand sting. "You heartless man! He is not _fat_! And yes, I do believe they hid the news of another child on the way. Not that I blame them," she says, eyeing her husband with unveiled disdain. 

Even if Harry isn't currently expecting, she is quite sure the pair won't stop at just James and she's thrilled, mentally cheering at the very idea of more grandchildren. An entire house full of happy, laughing little babies running around, breaking ugly heirlooms and terrorizing their grumbling grandfather sounds utterly perfect. She's surprised to realize she can practically _see_ her future granddaughter, learning the finer points of proper tea in their sitting room. Oh yes, she wants that to become a reality and Merlin help her stubborn, foolish husband if he's responsible for ruining that.

"Find a way to get over yourself, dear. I _won't_ be left out of those babies' lives," she says in a low tone, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

Lucius just nods, staying quiet and merely watching as his wife lifts her chin and sniffs at him, leaving the room in a rustle of robes. He sighs inaudibly in the empty room, reluctantly seeing the wisdom of his wife's words. He doesn't wish to be left out either but he's having a difficult time accepting Draco's spouse, even after several years and the birth of a male heir. James is an... acceptable looking child —even with that plebeian name and the misfortune of inheriting Potter's atrocious genetics. He sighs again and settles himself with an aged Firewhiskey, his thoughts centered on how he can be... nice to Potter.

It nearly gives him indigestion to even consider it.


	10. I don't care what kind it is, just give me the pie.

"Should I even ask?"

Harry looks up sheepishly and shakes his head, pausing mid-chew to try a smile. Thankfully, his mouth isn't too full to do it and he snickers when Draco wrinkles his nose adorably and just sits across from him at the small table. He hurriedly finishes chewing and swallows. "What?" he asks, staring at his plate for a moment before looking back up at Draco. It's only pie.

" _What_ he says," Draco says dryly. His eyes flick down to Harry's plate before returning to Harry's face and he smirks. "Nothing," he finally says, waving a hand dismissively. He doesn't really care what Harry eats, as long as it has his husband enjoying it and making those happy little hums. "So. What is it?" he asks, unable to squash his curiosity. It _almost_ looks appetizing...

Harry twirls his fork around between his fingers and gives Draco a measuring look. Is the blonde serious? "It's pie," he says flatly.

"Ah, yes, I did notice that. But what _kind_ of pie, love?"

Harry scoffs and spears a piece of the filling, holding it up. "Apple."

"And?"

Harry blinks. "Oh! That's cheese," he says, pointing to the rather bright orange strips going across the pie. "I heard cheese is good with apple pie," he says with a shrug, folding the bite of pie into his mouth. "That whole, complimentary flavors, thing," he adds, mumbling through his mouthful.

"How in Merlin's name is that classified as _cheese_?" Draco asks, pointing to the unnatural colored 'cheese'. "It looks revolting, love."

Harry snickers. "Ah, well that's probably because it came out of a can." He grins and takes another bite of his pie. The canned cheese isn't exactly as cheesy as he likes, but he's come to love the stuff. "It's Muggle," he adds, unnecessarily. He can tell by the look of mild disgust on Draco's face his husband has figured such a thing out. A twitch of his finger and the can zooms over towards him. "See?" he says, holding it up. He pops the yellow cap off and wiggles the can in Draco's face.

"I see," Draco says, leaning back a little from the nefarious looking nozzle aimed at him. "Anyway," he says, watching Harry upend the can over his pie and assault the dessert with more 'cheese'. "I thought I'd warn you. My mother is under the impression you're pregnant."

Harry stills, his mouth opening in a gape and only managing to swallow on reflex. "What? But— How— Why?" he sputters out, unsure how to react. He had only just found out, how could Mrs. Malfoy have figured it out? They had no intention of telling his parents tonight (if ever, depending how the visit went). He knows Draco hadn't said; his husband hadn't left his side the entire time and he never noticed any subtle gestures that would indicate Draco telling either of his parents in their weird 'don't have to talk' pure-blood way. He doesn't think that's what Draco stayed behind to say, either, because they had promised to share the news as a couple.

His hands drop from the table to his stomach. His brows pinch as he squeezes and prods at himself; he doesn't look pregnant already, does he? He groans softly. He does, he _knows_ it; he looks fat and bulgy! Not the 'just a bit chubby' Draco keeps telling him whenever he bitches and moans at his reflection.

"She's a keen woman, Harry," Draco says, watching Harry feel himself up. He'd offer his own hands for the task but he knows Harry's doing his 'I'm a fat whale' inner monologue at the moment. His husband rarely response favorably to his lewd offers when he's in that mind-space. Later, he reminds himself, he'll thoroughly cover Harry's body with kisses and licks that not even Harry can deny as proof of his unending attraction and adoration.

He nods when Harry finally looks up and, reluctantly, nods in understanding. "And no, she didn't discuss it with me but I could tell she was thinking it when I left. I've no intentions of actually telling them, love," he says softly, grabbing one of Harry's hands from his lap. He mostly just wants to stop Harry from doing his poking, assessing, prodding thing he's taken to doing. He rubs a thumb over Harry's knuckles and smiles when the grip loosens.

"Yeah, OK," Harry finally mutters. "Think we can just deny it? Or avoid them?"

Draco snorts, amused that he'd been thinking the very same thing. It's tempting... but ultimately unrealistic. "Probably not, love. My mother was quite... smitten. She won't allow us to keep our distance from them any more." He sighs, quite saddened to realize their happy times without being bothered by his parents are pretty much over. "Well, on the plus side; they'll spoil our kids with presents."

"How is that a plus side?" Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow. He glares when Draco only grins, not at all impressed with his husband's opinion. "And I'd really rather they didn't go overboard with presents and the like."

Draco nods. Yes, he expected Harry to say that. "I'll see what I can do, love, but it's just how my parents are. Maybe..." he says slowly, hoping Harry won't immediately say 'no' to what he has to say. "Maybe it'll help James be more comfortable around them. I hardly think he'd like my mother to just suddenly start hugging him and cooing at him."

"True," Harry says slowly. James had been very reluctant to interact with Draco's parents past a wave from across the room. Of course, it didn't help that Narcissa hadn't done more than smile at him (which was quite shocking, even if it was the merest upward quirk of her lips) and Lucius had only glared at his son. He really doesn't think bribery is the way to go, even if he knows the chance of it working are pretty high.

"But still," he adds, waving his fork in emphasis, "I really don't think spending Galleons will help, either. They can either be normal old grandparents that spoil our kids with love and cookies, or they can bugger off."

Draco snickers and only makes a non-committal humming sound. "I'll speak to Mother; see if she's willing to rein it in a bit, yeah?"

"Whatever," Harry says through a mouthful of pie. He grins cheekily when Draco gives him a flat look, obviously unimpressed he's spoken with his mouth full. By the time he's scraping his fork along the plate, collecting sticky remnants and crumbs, Draco is looking decidedly interested again. "What?" he asks, swiping his fork along his outstretched tongue.

Draco shakes his head a little. How Harry can do everything but lick his plate clean and give him that innocent expression is beyond him. He watches as Harry stands and heads towards the sink. Just before Harry can flick his wand, cleaning his few dishes, he crosses the kitchen and presses himself along Harry's back. He's a little giddy when Harry immediately responds, his grip on his plate and fork loosening and sending the items into the sink with a loud clatter.

He peeks over Harry's shoulder but once he sees nothing broken, he lowers his lips to Harry's neck and applies the lightest pressure. As expected, Harry moans softly at the light touch. He slides his hands around Harry's hips, sliding them into the front pockets of Harry's jeans. "My mother also mentioned she'd like to visit," he murmurs, pressing a line of kisses along Harry's neck. He wants to sigh softly when Harry tenses, his head turning a little in an effort to look at him.

"What? Why?"

Draco does sigh. "Because she'd like to visit, love. Why else?" He chuckles softly when Harry's sound of annoyance tapers off into a moan, his fingers wiggling against the crease of hip and thigh through the lining of Harry's pockets distracting his husband for a moment. He slowly draws his nose along Harry's neck, smiling softly at the way Harry's hips shift backwards. "I didn't answer her, yet, of course. What do you think?"

"Ask me later," Harry demands in a breathless whisper. He can't think straight, not with Draco's hands now roaming his hips and thighs as that damned mouth nips and kisses along his neck and shoulder. He doesn't want to agree to anything simply because his Slytherin husband abused his quick-to-react body. The opportunistic bastard.

Draco hums softly, agreeing. As tempting as it is to get Harry to just say yes, tempting and teasing the affirmative with his hands and mouth, he really doesn't want an ill-gotten 'yes' to bite him in the arse later. Their couch is lumpy and he knows Harry won't hesitate to recommend a night (or two) on it for extorting a positive answer from him while his brain was momentarily short-circuited by lust (as well as swimming in hormones).

"Just think about it, yeah? Mother really wants a chance and I'm sure she can keep my father in line." He's actually quite confident she can, he's seen it enough times to know his mother is a force to be reckoned with. He foolishly, in his arrogant youth, thought it weakness on his father's part... until he'd been similarly 'handled' by his own spouse.

"I'll think about it. _Later_ ," Harry promises, arching against Draco's front when a hand slides down his stomach and under the waistband of his jeans. He releases a pent-up breath, moaning softly, when Draco's hand closes around his cock. It should be annoying that the grip is immediately perfect and fucking exquisite; it's not though, it's just perfectly arousing and he's panting in no time. His hips move of their own accord, rolling and shifting forwards into Draco's hand and then back to press against the blonde's hips, a moan coming out each time he feels the firm bulge press against his arse. He bites his lip, belatedly realizing he's making lots of noise and he really doesn't want to risk waking James.

Draco groans softly, pressing against Harry's back and arse each time his husband arches backwards. It doesn't seem at all odd that they're standing in front of their kitchen sink, moaning and rutting against each other. He's surprised to realize he's almost as close as Harry and he speeds up his movements, very familiar with the way Harry's breathing and clutching hands signal how close he is. The pair of them are gasping and grunting together softly and moments away from coming in their pants like a couple of randy teenagers.

He muffles himself in Harry's neck, both from his own orgasm and the sounds he makes as he enjoys hearing Harry gasp out his. He chuckles softly when Harry goes completely limp, sighing happily as he tips his head back for a kiss that Draco eagerly returns.

"Ugh," Harry groans, wrinkling his nose as he wriggles a little. Now that he's thinking a bit clearer, he's slightly annoyed at the mess he's stuck with pressing uncomfortably against his crotch. He huffs out a resigned breath when Draco's lips are back on his neck and shoulder and those hands slowly slide out of his pants to loosely grasp him around the hips.

Draco merely hums in agreement. He'd like to be annoyed he hadn't gotten either of them more naked, but he can't be. Not really. He's still feeling too damn good. He concentrates and cleans them both with a burst of magic, grinning into Harry's temple when he hears a happy little noise as a result. He waits until they're both breathing normally, tucked against each other comfortably, before he speaks again.

"It's later."

"Yes, it is," Harry says on a sigh. He wriggles free enough to be able to turn in Draco's hold and look up at his impatient blonde. "Fine," he says with another sigh. He can't exactly refuse Draco's wishes and he's tempted to demand the ability to kick out the elder Malfoys if they don't behave themselves. Of course, the pure-bloods wouldn't dream of being rude but he knows his definition of 'manners' and theirs varies a bit too much for his complete comfort.

Draco grins, pecking a kiss on Harry's pout. He chuckles and can't help rubbing their noses together when Harry only scowls up at him, obviously trying very hard to stay annoyed. "I'll owl Mother, give her a short list and expectations."

"Is that... Are you sure?" Harry asks, trying not to chew his lips. He's torn between accepting, adding his own things to the list, and chiding his husband on thinking they can tell grown wizards (and his parents, for Merlin's sake) what to do.

"Oh yes," Draco says with a nod. "Very sure. Look, they both know how to behave themselves in any social or political situation. However—" He raises his voice a little, interrupting Harry when his mouth goes to open, "This is a new experience. I refuse to put up with my father's attitude and I know they'll be a bit surprised at how we do things." He knows he's putting that last bit mildly and by the look Harry sends him, his husband very aware of it.

Harry nods back, squaring his shoulders in false confidence. He's pleased to know Draco is willing to do such a thing, and he nods again. "Right. Good."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"I don't believe it," Lucius murmurs, reading Draco's note over his wife's shoulder. He really wishes he was one to roll his eyes, because that tripe really calls for it. The nerve of his only child! "Does he truly believe us to be stupid?" he murmurs with a slight sneer.

Narcissa hums softly, reaching over her shoulder and lightly patting Lucius' cheek. "No, beloved. He believes you to be a judgmental old so-and-so and is obviously trying to reduce the chances of a scene." She hums again, re-reading the paragraph about James, mostly just because she enjoys hearing about the little boy. She can understand why her son felt the need to send such a note, so she's not as offended as her husband, but she also knows it probably won't help much.

She turns her head and raises an eyebrow when she takes in Lucius' slightly pinked face and drawn eyebrows. Oh, he's definitely offended. And angry. How expected. She returns to the note, relief and joy warming her when she reads the invitation to dinner being extended for that Sunday. She really can not wait.

"I should write him back, let him know how things truly are."

Narcissa huffs softly and turns, wrapping her arms around Lucius' waist. She smiles when he relaxes and a hand gently rests atop her head. "Please, darling. This is important to our Draco. You _have_ been a bit of a beast to his husband..." she trails off, nuzzling his abdomen slightly.

"I've only given him the respect he's earned," Lucius says with a soft sniff.

Narcissa smothers the urge to slap her husband. But not the one to call him a liar. "No, I'm afraid you haven't. Not only does he deserve the highest respects for past deeds, but also simply for being Draco's husband. You've been dreadful, darling. And unless you wish to stay at the Manor when I visit them, you'll need to adjust that." She leans back enough to give him a stern expression, pleased to see his wary expression.

"Do you honestly believe my own son would keep me from his home? From my _grandson_?"

"Yes," Narcissa murmurs, getting to her feet. She re-folds the letter and tucks it carefully back into its envelope. "I believe he will. Harry and James are his priorities now. You should be proud of him, Lucius, for taking your teachings about the importance of family to heart."

Lucius wants to argue. He wants to deny his wife's certainty... but he can't. He's aware of where family loyalty lies with the Malfoys but he hadn't actually thought it would no longer apply to him first and foremost. It's a sobering realization. He straightens his waistcoat and robes, flicking off imaginary lint and barely-there wrinkles before giving his wife his full attention.

"I'll keep that in mind, my love."

Narcissa merely nods, kissing Lucius' cheek before leaving in a swirl of robes. It's enough that Lucius realizes their new position in Draco's life, she's not going to lose any progress he's made my belaboring the point. Besides, she's got a letter to her son to write. She wants to accept the invitation and give their vow to 'behave' as soon as possible.

Lucius pours a tumble of firewhiskey and settles into his large, comfortable chair. He gently swirls the liquor, staring at it as he ponders just how he's going to manage being 'nice' and keep his opinions on child-rearing to himself.


	11. Who doesn't like p'sketti?

"Oh sweet Merlin."

Harry looks up, not all that surprised to see Draco standing in the kitchen doorway and looking completely gobsmacked. And a little unsettled, verging on disgusted. He knows why, a glance at their son making him smile despite Draco's look of horror. He shrugs a little and goes back to his task, twirling his fork and carefully tucking the rolled-up pasta into his mouth.

"What is that?" Draco asks, pointing between the two plates as he eases into the kitchen and sits across from Harry. He's keeping a wary eye on his complete mess of a son, quite justified in fearing for his suit and pristine hair. James is entirely covered (probably even down to his training pants, for Merlin's sake) in something red and... chunky looking. There are noodles scattered about the mess. All in all, James is a sight. And he looks like a farm animal, messy and content with life.

Harry rolls his eyes a little, slurping a loose noodle into his mouth. He licks sauce from his lips and snickers softly when Draco's attention is immediately on his mouth. He might be teasing a little when he licks his lips again, but he's really only being thorough in his cleaning efforts. "It's spaghetti, love."

"P'sketti!" James says loudly, agreeing as he nods enthusiastically. The movement makes a few noodles plop off his face and hair, landing in his lap. He grabs them with a happy sound; he thought he'd eaten them all! He slurps the noddles into his mouth, giggling when Harry does the same with his next bite. "More p'ease!" he says, holding out his plastic bowl. He wiggles it imperiously when neither parent moves to take it and refill it.

Harry sighs softly and takes the bowl, casting a mild cleaning charm on the outside as he stands with a slight wince, his free hand going to the small of his back and rubbing a little. He dishes more pasta and sauce into the bowl and cuts it into more manageable pieces before sliding it onto James' tray. He smothers the urge to chuckle when James dives in, with both hands, and makes a soft noise. As soon as James' looks up, he tucks a plastic toddler spork into James' less messy hand. He rolls his eyes when James immediately switches it to his left hand and manages to spill half of the spaghetti out of his bowl in the first attempt of using the utensil.

He rolls his eyes a little and makes a sound that has James glancing up and putting more effort into using his spork. James is not as clumsy as all that, having mastered the use of forks and spoons awhile ago, but Harry's willing to make small concessions because spaghetti is a bit difficult to eat. He gives a half-hearted dab at James' face with a napkin and eyes his son again when he goes to drop his spork.

"'K, mumma," James sighs and uses his spork. It's not as fun, and he gets a lot less noodles into his mouth, but he uses his spork so he doesn't get The Look from either parent. He scowls as another noodle slithers off the end and makes a grab for it with his fingers when both parents attention is elsewhere. He settles on shoving the noodles onto his spork with his fingers and it's a pretty effective system.

Draco smirks and scoots his chair closer to Harry. He's always amused when James says 'mumma', especially since Harry doesn't seem to mind the title. It's certainly easier than James just calling them 'da!' and trying to sort out which of them their son is referring to if they weren't in eye-line to see whom he's looking at. "Can I have some?" he coos softly, leaning in and eyeing Harry's plate briefly.

"Sure," Harry says, sliding his plate away when Draco leans in a little more. "Get your own," he adds, grinning. He raises an eyebrow when Draco leans back and has the nerve to pout and look thoroughly put-out. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten how dangerous it is to get between me and food?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and raising his fork ever-so-slightly in a could-be-threatening manner.

Plus, he's really not keen on getting up again any time soon. His feet hurt. Draco, the lazy git, can dish his own damn food.

Draco slowly shakes his head, lifting his hands and holding them out in surrender. No, no he hasn't. He's quite aware how dangerous it is. He leans forward again, sliding his hands down Harry's chest until they rest on the protruding baby bump, caressing it gently through the soft fabric of Harry's t-shirt. He has not forgotten how protective of his food a pregnant Harry is. He'd merely hoped for a small sample, to see if he'd like his own serving. Just because his husband and son enjoyed the dish, didn't exactly mean he would. They've both proven to have less than discerning palates...

"Right."

Harry huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands. He gets Draco a plate and dishes a small portion of spaghetti, slopping on a little extra sauce. He's pretty sure his blonde husband hasn't deigned to try spaghetti before but he's also pretty confident it'll be enjoyed. If the git wants more, he can get it himself. He slides the plate in front of Draco and settles back in front of his own with a soft sigh as he kicks his feet out under the table.

"What's in it?" Draco asks, leaning forward a little and sniffing. It does smell delicious, even if it appears to be extremely messy.

"Noodles!" James says loudly, holding out a handful of messy spaghetti towards his father. He wiggles his fist a little, noodles slapping against the outside of his hand, when his offer of sharing isn't immediately accepted.

Draco laughs and nods along, shaking his head at James' offer. His son merely shrugs and proceeds to tuck his hand into his mouth and going back to his own serving with a happy little hum. He looks at Harry and watches his husband expertly twirl the long noodles around his fork and tuck the entire package into his mouth. He waits until Harry chews before repeating his question.

"Spaghetti noodles and tomato sauce," Harry answers, trying not to roll his eyes. He raises an eyebrow when Draco sniffs at the pile of noodles again, looking hesitant. He knows what sort of things Draco won't touch (or can't because of only a few allergies) and he's momentarily annoyed. Of course, it's mainly hormonal so he takes another bite, swallowing noodles and irritation. He glances back up at Draco and can't suppress the eye roll this time. "There's nothing offensive in there, so just try it."

Draco huffs and picks up his fork. Harry's noodle-twirling is deceptively easy looking and he manages to make a mess when he attempts it. He glares at the splotch of tomato sauce on his shirt, shifting his gaze to glare to his husband when the prat has the nerve to laugh at him. It takes a few more attempts, and a few more splotches, before he manages to get a decent twirl going and he's finally able to sample the food.

He chews slowly, nodding his head a little as the flavor and texture hits him. It is good. Really good. "It's good," he says when he realizes Harry is looking at him, waiting for his opinion. He wraps more pasta around his fork and chuckles softly when Harry gives him a smug little look. "Yes, yes, love, I like it."

"Tolja so," Harry mumbles through another bite of pasta. He settles back as he cleans his plate and manages to keep the irrational urge to giggle down when Draco stands and gets another serving, grabbing James' bowl on his way to the large pot on the cooker. He watches as Draco cuts up James' next portion and sits down again. He's hit with another irrational urge to start weeping at how sweet Draco is. Sodding hormones.

Draco pauses, an artfully (if he says so himself) twirled roll of spaghetti half-way to his mouth. "You alright?" he asks when he notices Harry blinking furiously and rubbing at his nose. He carefully tucks the bite into his mouth as Harry nods vigorously, his watery green eyes flicking between him and James before he drops his head down. He notices James has paused in his face-stuffing and is giving Harry a similar look of concern.

"Yeah," Harry says, waving a dismissive hand. "Just, you know," he says, waving a hand in the vague direction of his belly. He's only mildly uncomfortable, just starting to really round out with their second child, but still; it's answer enough. He pushes a piece of nearly-forgotten garlic bread at James, giving his son an encouraging smile. James' eyes him for a moment, making sure he's okay, before nibbling at the bread.

Draco hums and goes back to eating, watching Harry nonetheless. "I realize now isn't the best time, but my parents owled."

"And?" Harry asks, trying not to sigh or pout. The visits with the elder Malfoys aren't terrible, but they've gotten more frequent now that it was obvious there was another grandchild on the way. Narcissa even touches his belly! It's not a big deal but he never expected the woman to be so... handsy and affectionate. Lucius still sits in the one wing-back chair, scowling lightly and sipping firewhiskey or elf wine, but at least now he stays blessedly quiet.

James even likes to spend time with them, even if he tends to be a little extra clingy (mostly with Harry) after they leave.

Draco carefully sets his fork down and wipes his mouth. "They'd like to visit tomorrow." He fights the urge to wince (or run out of the kitchen) when Harry's head jerks up and he scowls. Bugger.

"Tomorrow?" Harry asks slowly. He sighs when Draco nods warily. Why didn't his parents understand that he needed more time than that? He hated rushing around making sure their home looked presentable. It wasn't as bad since James is old enough to pick up after himself (mostly), but it's still aggravating.

"Yes." Draco nods. "Tomorrow. It is Sunday, after all." It shouldn't be that big of a surprise; his parents always choose to visit on Sundays. And he wouldn't be at all surprised if the visits gradually get weekly. Double bugger. He can see Harry tense and he's tempted to slide across the table and snog and pet him until he's relaxed and happy again.

Harry purses his lips and clenches his hands in his lap until the urge to snap something scathing goes away. Draco is merely the messenger, after all, and it's unfair to scream or rant at him; especially now that's he's calming down. He can easily see his husband doesn't look thrilled about the whole thing either. He can only imagine how stressful the visits are on Draco, having to balance himself between his family and his parents.

"Yes, I'm aware of what day it is. I was merely concerned at the lack of notice."

Draco inclines his head, trying not to smirk at the trying-not-to-be-pissy tone. "I did mention that," he says, taking a long sip of water. He was just as irritated at the short notice, but saying 'no' wasn't really an option. He wipes at his mouth again, stalling and hoping Harry doesn't explode at him. He notices James is still, his face smeared but his eyes wide as he looks between them. He hopes Harry sees that as well and he doesn't start ranting and raving. "Mother was quite insistent."

Harry snorts softly and rubs at his temples. "I bet she was," he mutters. He stands abruptly, conjuring a warm cloth and attacking James' messy face, chest and hands with single-minded determination. He must look rather ticked off because James sits still, making no attempts to fuss or wiggle away like he usually does. He rubs at James' messy hair, and the cloth comes away full of sauce as well.

"You're a right mess," he says affectionately, ruffling James' hair. He grins back when James gives him a cheeky, proud smile. "Bath I think." He chuckles when James bounces in his seat and starts chattering happily about bubbles and his rubber ducky.

Draco watches Harry work James from his highchair and snickers when a few errant noodles land on the floor with a muted squishy noise. Once Harry has James tucked up on his hip he stands slowly and inches closer. "Is that alright? I _will_ tell them to bugger off if it's really going to be a problem."

"No," Harry says with a long, drawn out sigh. "It'll be fine. I'm just..." he trails off, waving a hand around distractedly. "Being a Potter," he ends with a sniff and an eye roll. He probably shouldn't be annoyed Lucius likes to point that out, as a subtle insult, even though he's not technically a Potter any longer-not since he married and took Draco's surname.

Draco chuckles softly and kisses Harry's temple. He lowers his voice so James' won't hear. "Don't listen to that old bastard, love." He slides an arm around Harry's waist and pokes at James' naked chest, smiling when James grabs his finger and laughs. "Right, love? Grampa is an old meany who just likes to whinge."

"Yeah!" James loudly agrees, giggling and shaking Draco's finger around. "Old meany!" he parrots, grinning when Draco nods his agreement.

Harry snickers and nudges Draco gently with an elbow. "Don't say things like that. He'll only repeat them at the worst possible time and embarrass us all."

"Yes, dear," Draco says dutifully. It doesn't go past his notice that Harry doesn't disagree, though.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Draco nods as he greets his parents, the pair of them stepping through the floo with care and grace. He lets James rush over to greet them, raising an eyebrow at his father when the older blonde makes a face. His father should know by now, whether he agrees with it or not, that he doesn't hold his son to the same archaic, stilted behaviors he was raised with. He refuses to stifle his son's enthusiasm or do anything to remove his bright, happy smile. His mother, Merlin love her, accepts the boisterous greeting from her grandson with a smile and returns the hug, bending down in her fine robes to hug James tightly.

Harry makes a soft noise when Lucius' hand slowly reaches out and he gently, lovingly, pats the top of James' messy black hair. It's brief, but still... The pinched look isn't as severe either. Harry looks at Draco, trying not to openly gape, and sees a look of muted surprise on his face as well. Good, so he's not the only one surprised.

Pleased. But surprised.

Lucius still eagerly accepts Draco's offer of a Scotch (the older blonde's eyebrows pinching lightly with disdain at the offer of Muggle liquor, but he accepts it and takes a sip nonetheless). He still sits away from them all in the wing-back chair, but he's not scowling as fiercely and he actually offers short, one word answers when he's engaged in conversation.

"So, Harry," Narcissa says brightly, gently rubbing over the swell of his belly. She's still surprised he allows it, especially from her, but she's not going to look a gift Thestral in the mouth. A soft flutter against her palm has her fighting tears, overwhelmed for a moment because she has the chance to be involved this time, and she has to clear her throat softly before she can speak again. "Have you found out the gender?" she asks, looking up. She's not at all surprised to see his green eyes dart to meet her sons, the pair of them sharing a warm look.

"No," Draco says, looking at his mother with his chin tilted up a bit. "We didn't care to know." He expects both of his parents to scoff or demand an answer, but he's pleasantly surprised when they both just make sounds of acceptance. His father actually nods a little, his lips pursed thoughtfully before his gaze slides back to James, watching the little boy play nearby with a set of Muggle letter blocks. There's pride and affection in his usually cool gaze and Draco has to blink a few times.

Maybe his father is a bit more in his cups than he first thought... Or he's finally come around a little. He's pretty sure he has his mother to thank for that, and he makes a mental note to send her a large box of her favorite French chocolates as a thank-you.

Narcissa sighs softly, a small smile on her face. "Oh, that's lovely. A surprise!" she says, clutching her hands together and bringing them to her chest. She rubs at Harry's belly again, laughing brightly when he adjusts her hand to a spot lower on the side and she feels another press against her palm. "I would so adore a granddaughter," she murmurs softly, mostly to herself. While she loves her family, the whole stubborn lot of them, she really wouldn't mind a bit of a balance to the testosterone...

Harry nods, having been the only one to have heard Narcissa. The thought of a daughter brings a small feeling of terror (what does he know about girls?!), but he can't help wishing for one anyway. Hopefully, if they have a daughter she'd take after Draco in the hair department... he can't imagine a cute little girl cursed with his untamable hair.

He rubs a hand over his belly and focuses back on what Narcissa is saying, surprised he's actually interested in the witch's enthusiastic plans for baby shopping and how they plan to decorate the baby's room. It might seem a tad hopeful when they both find lilac an agreeable color, but it's not like a wave of a wand can't change the wall colors.


	12. P-I-Z-Z-A spells delicious.

"What are you—" Draco pauses mid-sentence, stunned by the sight before him. Harry and James might as well be mirror images at the moment; both of them are staring up at him with those wide green eyes, a slice of pizza half-way to their mouths as their cheeks bulge on one side.

His eyes continue flicking between the pair. He's perfectly justified in feeling himself melt a little inside as he looks at them; only a heartless bastard wouldn't find it adorable. Thanks to Harry and his mini-me, he's grown one that finds puffy cheeks and wide green eyes adorable.

And uses words like adorable...

Harry shrugs, going back to his pizza. He grins when James does the same, the little boy tearing into his pieces with gusto. "Hi, love," he mumbles through his own bite. He hadn't expected James to like the strange concoction he had ordered, but removing the offending toppings solved any issues and there was little fuss. He rubs a hand over his belly, humming softly as he chews.

"What's this?" Draco asks, easing into the room. Whatever it is they're eating, it smells pretty good. And some of it is cut into smaller pieces for James' easier handling. Not that his son appears to be having any difficulty... He's impressed with James growing table manners and watches as his son actually uses a napkin—strategically placed right on his lap—instead of wiping his fingers on his pants leg or his shirt. He absently wonders if that's his mother's prim influence until he sees Harry doing the same thing.

He ruffles James' hair and then gives Harry a quick kiss, his hand sliding down to gently rub along his stomach. He absently licks his lips and tastes the grease that was transferred during the brief press of lips.

Harry pushes the pizza box closer to Draco, a plate on top of the box. "Pizza," he says. He scrunches his face up, a bit offended on pizza's behalf that his husband is ignorant of the majesty that is pizza. He pauses, his half-eaten slice of pizza half-way to his mouth, and looks up at Draco curiously. "Don't tell me we've never had pizza."

He's pretty sure he has... No, he knows he has; probably back when Draco refused to eat such things. Snooty prat.

" _We_ haven't," Draco confirms, lifting the box's lid to peek inside. Pizza, while smelling delicious, looks messy (and it explains the greasy kiss earlier). Especially if one is expected to eat it with one's hands. Oh well, no help for it. He really isn't in the mood to be laughed at or jeered if he retrieves a fork... He spares Harry a brief look and carefully pulls a piece out, settling it onto his plate as he sites next to Harry. He's not quite sure what the appeal is to be eating whilst sitting on the sofa, instead of at the table properly, but he's not going to be the one to mention that.

Last time, he'd barely made it though James' puppy-eyes and Harry's tears (and then open hostility). Not with his dignity intact, at least.

"I'd remember if we've had this before," he says, pointing to his plate. "What's on here?" he asks, bending a little to inspect his food closer. He can't quite identify everything littering the surface and he's justifiably wary about eating something unknown. Especially if Harry looks so happy to be eating it. His husband's odd craving stage hadn't gone away, even this late in his second pregnancy.

Harry clears his throat and rests his plate on his lap (well, mostly balancing it on his knees since his lap is pretty much non-existant at the moment). "Uhm." He doesn't know what to do; on one hand, it's nice to see Draco actually interested in Muggle food with little complaining. On the other, he doesn't want to gross his husband out before he even gets a chance to try said food.

"...stuff," he eventually says, picking off a bit of sausage and nibbling on it.

"What kind of _stuff_?" Draco asks, raising an eyebrow. He notices James grinning at him and he winks. How bad could it be if his son is eating it with little fuss? James isn't supremely picky, but he isn't nearly as indiscriminate as Harry when it comes to what he eats. "Good stuff?" James and Harry nod at the same time. "Am I to just shut up and try it then?" They both nod again, two pairs of green eyes rolling affectionately, and he chuckles. "Right. But if any of this _stuff_ kills me, I'm haunting you both," he says and takes a small bite of his pizza.

He chews slowly, carefully letting the flavors roll around his mouth so he can taste it fully. "Is there... fish on this?" he finally asks once he's swallowed. He doesn't mind the flavor, but he hadn't any idea it was a pizza topping. It's oddly appealing, especially when combined with the other flavors. He's not sure Harry had it placed on the pizza purposefully... His husband really doesn't have a refined palate—he just eats what he likes. Occasionally, he gets lucky and chooses something sophisticated and absolutely delicious.

Harry nods. "Uhm, yeah. Those're anchovies. They're, uh, popular on pizza."

Of course, he's pretty sure it's not a 'popular' choice, per se, but it was listed on the menu and he had to have it added to the growing list of toppings when he practically drooled seeing it. He goes back to his own slice, trying to ignore Draco as he takes another bite and does that slow, testing chew thing again. Merlin... it's _pizza_ , for crying out loud—not a science experiment.

"What else?" Draco asks, unable to identify everything he's tasting. It's not exactly unpleasant, but he's curious. He eyes a strange yellow lump and points to it. It looks vaguely familiar... but something tells him it probably shouldn't be on his pizza. "What is this?"

"Pineapple," Harry mutters, picking off a chunk from his own slice and giving it to James. He'd been surprised to find his son adored the fruit on his pizza and he doesn't mind sharing. He chuckles softly when James just pops it right into his mouth, a mumbled 'thank you' as he chews, before going right back to his own piece. He huffs when Draco only continues to stare at him. "Pick it off if you don't like it," he says shortly, going back to his own food and ignoring the fussy blonde.

Draco just snorts softly and ignores the petulant expression on Harry's face. He feels a little bad he's responsible... Until he remembers that the smallest thing gets Harry in a huff any more. He doesn't think he's exaggerating, either. He found Harry glaring at a pile of dust the other day, confused until Harry had swept it away with a grumble about wishing he could just 'vanish that shit' away. So, yes, it's easy to get Harry off on a strop.

He's just as anxious as his husband for their second child to be born, and it's only partly due to the growing anticipation of seeing, holding, loving his daughter. Mostly, he just wants his Harry back to normal. Selfish? Maybe, but he's honest enough to admit it... Well, at least to himself. Hary would probably only misconstrue that to mean... something odd and unflattering about his size or something.

Harry just glares and goes back to eating, ignoring the commiserating glances he can _feel_ Draco and James sharing. Bloody prats; they didn't know misery until they were up on their feet every hour to pee and wishing their body would disappear from the neck down because everything was just so sore and achy. And ridiculously huge.

He watches Draco chew with renewed interest. His husband looks pleasantly surprised. "Well?"

"It's good," Draco admits. He almost feels like he's been missing out on something good since he's insisted Harry keep most of his Muggle foods out of the house. Of course, that 'rule' went out the window the moment Harry had burst into tears, wailing about wanting to be able to get whatever he wanted in his home and that Draco hated him for being 'Muggle-born'. That had been a most unpleasant way to wake at 3am...

He rolls his eyes and can't suppress a smile when Harry gives him a narrow-eyed but smug look. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I have, in the past, admitted I was wrong."

Harry makes a sound between a scoff and a snort but wisely makes no further comments. Yeah, Draco has been able to admit being wrong in the past but it's generally after a long, drawn out argument and he finally just huffs a 'fine' to end the argument. He slides another piece of pizza onto James' plate when he asks for it.

* * *

Draco eases into the kitchen, holding his empty plate and approaching Harry warily. Harry had stomped into the kitchen a few minutes ago, gathering his and James' empty plates and the empty pizza box with a pinched expression and numerous huffy sighs. He's not even sure why his husband had been upset and he's not looking forward to an argument. He just can't argue with a pregnant Harry; not only can he not win, he hates seeing his husband like that.

Plus the threat of being kicked out of bed is quite real—not that Harry has actually gone through with it yet. But he has no desire to test Harry's willingness to follow through with that particular threat. He's a stubborn bastard on a good day (and when hormone free). Neither of them sleeps well when alone... He knows Harry would crack first and that could possibly just make him even crankier, even if he got to snuggle up against him like usual. Harry got... elbow-y (having painfully accurate aim) when he was cranky and pissed off at him but didn't want to evict Draco from their bed.

"Alright?" he murmurs, leaning around Harry and sliding his plate onto the counter.

He slowly runs his hands up Harry's back—ready to back away at a moments notice. Harry doesn't glare over his shoulder or push him away, so he steps a little closer as he keeps his hands moving. He pauses to rub and knead his thumbs into Harry's lower back for a moment, and brings his hands up along his spine to rest on slightly tense shoulders. He smiles a little when Harry's entire body relaxes and he leans back a little, obviously welcoming Draco's touch.

Huh. Well, the real plus to hormone induced fits is they tend to disappear as suddenly as they appear. Thank Merlin...

Harry nods, swallowing around a lump of emotion. He hates being all over the place and he hates that he ends up taking it out on Draco most of the time—even if his husband is amazingly understanding and rarely takes it personally. He really doesn't know how Draco takes in all in stride, even when he's being positively horrible. He sags with relief he hasn't pissed (or chased) off his husband for the rest of the night and leans into the fantastic hands gently—but deftly—massaging him in all the right spots.

He's able to control his emotional outbursts around James, though; usually able to close his mouth before he can snap at his son unnecessarily. James wouldn't understand... The first (and last) time it happened, they'd both wound up crying at each other. Luckily, James had eventually allowed Harry to snuggle him and they'd calmed down together. Harry considers himself lucky his little boy didn't try to avoid him or shy away from him after that. He doesn't know what he do if that happened...

"Yeah," he finally says. His eyes drift closed when Draco starts massaging his shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles where his neck and shoulder meet. He hadn't realized he was so tense until he feels his muscles slowly turning to jelly under his husband's skilled fingers. Of course, now he's relaxing quickly, ready to just melt into a puddle of goo and plaster himself against his blonde's firm front. He hums, sagging back until Draco is basically supporting his entire weight.

Poor bastard. He doesn't make any effort to remove himself, though, even if he's probably testing Draco's strength to the limits. Even without his baby-belly, there's a considerable amount of him to support... which his husband still adores and enjoys at every opportunity. The last he bothered checking, he was up to 13 stone—and that was before the baby. His healer hasn't tsked over it, so he hasn't changed anything besides his pre-natal vitamin potions and forcing more greens onto his plate.

"You sure?" Draco asks, leaning down and lightly kissing up the back of Harry's neck. He doesn't usually second guess his heavily pregnant husband—it usually leads to Harry snapping at him. But he can't help himself; he's concerned and wants to make sure.

And his brain is a bit muddled since he's quickly getting aroused; it's been awhile since Harry has let him touch—except for the occasional massage, belly rubs, and bedtime snuggle before they both fell asleep. But it's not the kind of contact he's been craving. He hasn't pushed, knowing Harry still has moments of insecurity. Or he's just too tired... Those are the only side-effects of pregnancy he finds slightly annoying, but it's still manageable.

He isn't being rebuked or pushed away when his hands wander a little, so he slides his hands down Harry's front, purposefully ghosting over already-peaked nipples, and rests his hands on Harry's baby-bump. He pauses there for only a moment before he drops his hands so his fingertips brush lower; right below the swell of Harry's belly and teasing at Harry's crotch, his fingers ghosting over the seam of Harry's maternity pants. He doesn't linger, even if he really wants to, and slides his hands up again.

Draco rubs circles over the large bump, nuzzling Harry's neck. He's vaguely aware of Harry nodding in answer to a question he nearly forgot asking since most of his focus is on the warm scent in his nose and the relaxed, lovely, sexy body in his arms. He adjust his position when Harry leans against him even more. He hums happily, taking advantage of Harry's relaxed state and easy-going mood to fondle his pliant husband. He gently squeezes Harry's hips, his hands sliding down the front of his thighs. Merlin, he adores those thighs. He misses having them wrapped around his hips (or neck).

"Anything I can do?" he asks, his voice low and full of suggestion. He doesn't know if he should be offended or encouraged when Harry voices a breathy, soft giggling sound... Until Harry wiggles away. He's discouraged but accepting. So close...

"Not right now," Harry says, gently easing Draco's hands from around his hips. He tsks softly when Draco's hands quickly knead at his bum before falling away. He's used to Draco fondling him but he's _this close_ to just pushing Draco onto the table, flat on his back, and riding him until they're both sweaty and exhausted. He's still adjusting to the crazy wash of hormones that have him crying, irrationally angry or incredibly horny. He offers Draco a kiss, feeling terrible and just as frustrated to put a stop to anything further.

But James is in the other room and Draco's parents are expected any minute. He chuckles, and leans forward, planting a solid kiss on his husband's pouting mouth. Merlin, what a baby. "Later?" he offers suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Draco's pout deepens but he nods. "Fine. And I'm going to hold you to that," he says lowly, grabbing Harry's arse with both hands and gently squeezing. He makes a soft grunting-groaning sound; he still adores Harry's arse and it's really only gotten better. Harry nods, trying to look smug with his flushed face, and he raises an eyebrow. "I mean it. I'm not going to go have a wank in the shower because you're suddenly not in the mood."

"I promise," Harry says, unable to keep himself from snorting a laugh. He'd accuse Draco of being overly dramatic, but he really can't... His poor husband has been 'reduced' to such habits more than once. He feels a little bad about it, honestly but he's too exhausted most nights by the time James is in bed. He feels all warm and gooey inside, giving Draco another kiss for being such a wonderful husband. He never would have imagined the blonde had such patience... But he's grateful for it, nonetheless.

He sighs softly when the floo chimes from the other room. "Why are they always early?" he mutters, frowning a little and glaring in the general direction of the floo. Visits with Draco's parents have gotten more pleasant, but he's still nervous and on edge the first few minutes—mostly out of habit. Lucius doesn't scowl (or drink) as much and Narcissa hasn't made subtle comments about nannies (or horrendous traditional family names) since he cried all over the witch during tea a few weeks ago. It had been one of the most embarrassing things, probably ever, but he liked the end results enough he didn't worry about it too much.

Plus, both elder Malfoys had too much decorum to mention it. More than three times, anyway. Lucius will still offer him an embroidered handkerchief after they're almost cordial greetings. Prat.

Draco smiles, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist again. "Because it's proper. And the most annoying way to make their presence known," he adds with a cheeky smile. He gives his husband a reassuring squeeze, patting his arse and giving him a quick kiss before letting go. "Let's go, love. The longer we leave them solely in James' company, the greater the risk of them bribing him with chocolates and toys."

Or, Merlin forbid, a kneazle like his mother has been threatening for weeks.

He watches Harry hurry out of the kitchen, as fast as he can and not look like he's rushing. He once again fights the urge to pout as he adjusts himself—another hour and he wouldn't have to will down an erection. He squares is shoulders, mentally cursing his parents and their horrible timing, and goes out to greet them.


	13. Everybody loves cake!

"What's all this then?" Draco asks, looking around the room as he carefully folds his robe over the back of a chair, smoothing the fabric down with an absent move before moving further into the room.

Harry, James, Narcissa and Natalie are sitting at a small child-sized table placed right in their sitting room. Draco eyes the silver tray with a warm feeling of amusement; there's a full, proper tea service where his daughter's plastic set normally sits. He's not sure what to make of his mother bringing over one of the finer sets of a silver service for a what appears to be a child's tea party, but he's immeasurably pleased she's done so. Natalie looks thrilled to be using a proper cup and not one of her plastic ones, her chubby pinkie extended delicately.

And there are cakes. Plates and platters, trays and a multi-tiered cake stand full of different assortments, sizes, flavors. Trifles, cupcakes, petite fours. It's a wonder the small table isn't trembling under the weight of them all, honestly. He nearly rolls his eyes at his mother's knack for a posh tea at any location.

Draco makes his way over towards his husband, cupping his face and giving him a quick kiss when Harry looks up and presents his lips. He's tempted to linger (it's been a bit since he's given Harry a proper kiss, after all), but they've an audience and he knows Harry gets self-conscious if—well, _when_ —he gets carried away.

As expected, James makes an 'ew' face, complete with disgusted noises. But Natalie shrieks with glee and demands a kiss of her own. Draco is only too pleased to oblige, smacking a loud one on her still-chubby cheek. He sneaks a kiss to the top of James' messy head before his son can duck away.

He'd be offended but he remembers being just as averse to affection or kissing of any sort (especially parental kissing) at that age, so he doesn't take the disgusted sounds, grimacing or attempts of wiping his kiss off personally. Well... Not as personally. He'll still do it and James will just have to suck it up.

"Tea," Harry says, smiling. He takes another small piece of cake and cuts Draco a large helping. He looks up when Natalie squeals happily, smashing her cake with a chubby fist and eating it off her palms and from between her fingers. She makes an inquiring noise and offers some to her brother.

Draco hides a smile when James rolls his eyes but takes a mangled piece offered by his sister. He's secretly touched she's willing to share—she's a notorious sweets hog.

"Darling," Narcissa greets her son, tilting her head for a cheek kiss. "Just in time." She sets another place for Draco at the small table, smiling behind her hand when Draco doesn't hesitate to fold himself into the small seat and place another round of loud smacking kisses on each of his children's pudgy cheeks before sitting. She's impressed he's managed to get James before the little boy can duck away again.

Draco eyes the large slab of cake on his plate for a moment before looking at Harry with a contemplative expression. "All for me?" Harry nods before going back to speaking with his mother about Holiday plans and picking absently at his own, much smaller, piece. He considers the large piece of cake for a few more moments before cutting into it with the side of his fork and taking a small bite.

It's chocolate, one of his favorites. And heavily iced with ganash and fudge. Fantastic. He accepts a cup of tea from his daughter, smiling proudly as she beams up at him after (mostly) successfully pouring it herself. He's not sure who vanishes the drips away—his mother or Harry—but Natalie looks fit to burst with pride at her accomplishment. He enjoys his cake, sneaking his hand under the table to rest along Harry's knee, and just enjoys his cake as he mostly listens as his family talks around him.

As far as he's concerned, it's the perfect ending to a stressful day.

...

"Are you really alright with leaving our children with my parents?" Draco asks, putting the last of the cakes away. As handy as Harry's weird Muggle plastic bowls are, he prefers a well placed preservation charm. The icing never gets all crystalline or the cake all dried out that way. He licks some icing off his thumb and heads back out towards Harry, holding nearly a half a cake.

Harry looks over the back of the chaise at Draco and nods. He wouldn't have thought so a year ago, but the elder Malfoys have wormed into his heart and have shown themselves to be devoted grandparents. Stereotypical, even; doting on their children and lavishing them with gifts of all sorts. Even Lucius, in his own subdued way. He's really OK with it.

"Yes," he finally answers aloud, since Draco is preoccupied with fiddling about with a huge, gooey slice of cake and didn't see him nodding. He chuckles under his breath and strokes a hand along Draco's thigh once his husband sits next to him. "Are you really going to sit there worrying or are we going to make the best of an empty house?"

Draco pauses for a moment, considering the too-quiet of the house that reminds him his children are with his parents until the next afternoon. It's not all that difficult to come up with an answer. He's quick to put the plate on the coffee table and push Harry back on the chaise, rolling over him once he's got Harry on his back.

A happy little thrill shoots through him when Harry goes easily, shifting to make room for him between his legs and smiling up at him warmly. He leans down, briefly kissing his husband, humming against his lips before drawing away so he can slowly strip Harry.

They should probably move elsewhere, upstairs to their bed like the adults they are, but he can't think past seeing Harry naked _right now_. He urges Harry up just enough to get his shirt off, tossing it carelessly and making the effort of marking each bit of exposed soft skin with a kiss, a gentle nip or a lick.

He fiddles with Harry's flies as he moves down Harry's chest slowly to mouth at Harry's belly, groaning softly with pleasure. He pushes Harry's trousers open and down enough so he can slide his his hands down Harry's sides, nudging stiff fabric down and off until he can get to fleshy thighs, fingers digging into the softness rhythmically, enjoying the soft give under his fingertips and palms. He's no less affected by it than the first time and he's fully hard and _this close_ to just rutting shamelessly against Harry's ample thighs like a horny crup and calling it a good first go.

With a bit of an effort, he pulls back. They've got ages; no sense in rushing. He yanks off Harry's trousers and pants the rest of the way, tossing them carelessly to the side.

"Fuck, I love your body," Draco murmurs just before burying his face in Harry's stomach again. He spends a few happy moments there, kissing, mouthing and licking around Harry's navel and softness before making his way downwards.

He's quick to bypass Harry's growing arousal and skips to his favorite part: his face between Harry's thighs. He urges them apart just a bit and noses the soft skin of Harry's inner thigh, smirking a little to himself when he hears the sharply in-drawn breath exhaled as a shaky moan when he peppers kisses all down Harry's sensitive skin down to the back of his knee.

They share a laugh when Harry twitches, a surprised giggle coming out of him at the sensation. The laugh turns into a soft moan when Draco switches to the other leg, nipping and mouthing the other side, the barest hint of stubble rasping along the sensitive area. His murmured "gorgeous" is a bit muffled with skin because he really doesn't want to stop what he's doing, but he knows Harry hears him.

Harry just buries his hands in Draco's hair, long used to his husbands quirks and words of praise, and just hums softly in response. He spreads his legs with a soft sound of pleasure, making room for Draco to lay comfortably when he shifts closer, further into the V of Harry's thighs. Warm, open mouth kisses trail up along his lower belly, across his hips and back down his inner thighs.

He gets comfortable, recognizing a Draco in the mood to take his time. As much as he'd rather Draco just get on with it, it's been too long since they've been able to do much than a hurried wank or blowjob in the shower, but the slow build is very nice. His eyes close on a breathy moan when Draco's hands slide under his body and gently knead at his arse, lifting just a little to tip his hips upwards. He can feel Draco's gaze on him and he feels a flush of heat work through his body; part arousal, part self-conscious embarrassment he has yet to overcome.

Draco nuzzles the pudge under Harry's navel, murmuring endearments as he nuzzles and kisses along a fine scar. He loves that scar, and it's one of the few Harry shows pride for, doesn't mind him looking at and touching.

He can feel Harry's arousal against his cheek; insistent soft warmth tempting him to just move a few centimeters to the left. But it's been awhile since they can take their time, so he's not going to rush. Not just yet. Harry must be thinking the same because his husband isn't making any effort to move things along, he just lays back, apparently content to just enjoy whatever Draco does to him.

He trails kisses all over, indulging himself in the enjoyment of Harry's body, saying sweet things and adoring the figure that gave him two beautiful, perfect children. He can practically feel Harry rolling his eyes but it's true. He loves the softness, even if Harry still tries to get rid of it. His husband is otherwise healthy and sexy as fuck—what's not to love? He mouths at the soft padding along Harry's hips, fingers digging into the ample give on the other hip. He groans softly, rutting gently against Harry's thigh as his arousal builds with each touch and caress.

Draco strips himself with a muttered spell, now too impatient to let Harry have his turn and take his time with the rest of his clothes. He pulls on Harry's legs until he's got Harry in his lap, those lovely fleshy thighs spread wantonly on either side of his own. He palms Harry's lovely, ample arse and groans softly, eyes fluttering closed. Merlin, how was he expected to last more than 2 minutes against that?

He pauses for a moment, thinking. He glances at the plate of cake on the table. He'd nearly forgotten about it. A flick of his wand has it gently floating over, settling on the soft seat of the chaise next to them. It's not until the plate settles, the cool porcelain against his calf, does Harry finally open his eyes. Harry looks down for a moment before glancing back to at a roguishly grinning Draco.

Harry's eyes dart back to the large slab of cake and Draco wants to purr but settles for raising his eyebrows pointedly, body hot and thrumming with anticipation. "Hungry?" Draco asks, grabbing the plate and balancing it between their bodies.

"What?"

Draco nearly rolls his eyes and carefully breaks a chunk of cake off with his fingers, not even caring about the icing getting all on his fingers. Harry will clean them off. "Cake, love?" he offers, touching the cake to Harry's mouth. Which instinctively opens, accepting the cake with a gentle lick and brief suction against his fingers as Harry takes the bit into his mouth.

He can't help it, he groans softly as he watches Harry's tongue dart out to catch crumbs and lick away a stray smear of icing. He never dreamed Harry would let him do this. Merlin, how he's wanted to... And it's even better than simply watching Harry do it himself.

Draco is quick to break off another piece, offering it before Harry's mouth is clear enough to ask questions or make refusals. By the third piece, the slight crinkle on Harry's forehead is gone, smoothed out with pleasure and he's chewing happily, eyes heavily lidded, content to just let Draco feed him.

His fingers encounter porcelain and he pouts. "Bugger. All gone." He ignores Harry's incredulous laugh and summons another plate, catching it deftly before it lands anywhere near Harry's hands. He's quick to banish the preservation charm, tear off a chunk and press it to Harry's mouth. Harry's lips remain closed, though. He grins, feeling triumphant as he looks at what he's managed to catch. 

"C'mon, love. It's treacle tart." He wriggles the tart against Harry's lips, practically vibrating with expectation and excitement for the moment Harry stops being stubborn and opens up. It's still Harry's favorite and he can't imagine a refusal.

"I'm aware of that," Harry mumbles around the dessert. He sits up a bit more, easing around the tart against his mouth and looks at Draco for a moment. "What if I'm full?" Draco's eyebrow pops up; the picture of a man not buying it but the dessert pulls away and he knows that Draco would leave it alone if that were the case. "Okay," Harry concedes with a chuckle, settling back down to where he was.

He eyes the tart, carefully held so it's not squished but tight enough it won't fall. It looks delicious and he licks his lips, staring at it for a long moment before meeting Draco's eyes. He licks his lips, tasting treacle and buttery crust crumbs. "What if I don't want more?"

Draco eyes Harry carefully. He knows that's not the issue but he also knows better than to push. He shrugs and offers a smile, "Then I'll put it away," he says sincerely.

He waits, though, keeping his hand right where it is; patiently waiting for Harry's verdict. As much as he's enjoying himself, he will not force the issue. Besides, if Harry's too full to move, he can't exactly shag him senseless now can he? He doesn't have to wait long before Harry's leaning up just enough to get his mouth wrapped around his fingers again, sticky tart filling and crumbly crust licked from between them.

With exquisite attention to detail and thoroughness.

"Fuck it," Draco mutters, practically tossing the plate to the table before leaning down to kiss Harry just as thoroughly. His fingers tickle through soft dark hair, his thumbs sweeping along the corners of Harry's mouth, pressing in lightly to tempt Harry's mouth open and deepens the kiss. He licks inside with a hum. He's never particularity cared for treacle tart, but he might be changing his mind because mixed with Harry it tastes absolutely delectable.

He pulls away with a nip to Harry's full bottom lip, wiggling his eyebrows lewdly. "More?"

Harry nods and watches Draco retrieve the plate once more. He's unaccountably excited as he watches Draco break another piece off and offer it. Maybe it's the care with which Draco does it, his complete and utter attention focused on Harry as he feeds him, darkened eyes watching his mouth intently as the takes the bite and chews. Maybe it's his husbands complete lack of decorum and using his fingers. Either way, he's never had a better treacle tart.

By the time the plate is empty again, Draco is shamelessly pressed against him and using his spare hand to stroke along any part of his body Draco can reach, settling frequently on his arse and hips. Draco sets the plate down and as soon as both hands are empty, he's got both hands sliding up and massaging his belly. Harry squirms a little, the sensation oddly arousing and calming at the same time. He's not all that full but it still feels brilliant.

Another piece of cake is pressed to his mouth and he opens willingly, not even opening his eyes as he hums happily through a mouthful of moist vanilla-orange cake. Draco's hands smooth along his hips and down his thighs again, a slow sensuous slide as a low rumble of pleasure makes the air between them practically hum as Draco feeds him another piece. Icing sticks on his lips and Draco licks it away before he can.

Harry cracks one eye open and grins, "If you wanted some, just say so—no need to swipe mine, love."

Draco chuckles and pops another bit of cake in Harry's mouth, effectively silencing the cheeky bastard. He chases that last bite with another kiss, his grin nearly breaking the kiss when Harry makes a hungry little sound and grabs at him, yanking him closer. He breaks off with a pant when Harry starts wriggling in his lap, their erections brushing and sliding wetly. "Fuck," he breathes out, fingers digging into Harry's arse cheeks as he arches back against Harry's movements. "Just like this," he pants out, half asking, half telling.

Harry nods frantically, moaning softly through bitten lips as his hips jerk with each pass of Draco's hand up his prick. Draco's teeth on his collarbone and a muffled reminder they're alone has him unclamping his teeth from his lip and moaning unabashedly, head tilting back.

It takes a few tries, and a few deep breathes, before Draco can concentrate long enough to conjure some lube and slides a hand down between Harry's cheeks, feeling too-warm all over when Harry sighs with pleasure and arches his back into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders.

It's a tease, though; he's too worked up to do anything but tip Harry backwards so Draco can rut against the soft fleshy crevice between Harry's hip and thigh for a moment before shifting just enough he can slide a hand down and wrap his fingers around his and Harry's erections.

Harry's fingers dig into Draco's back, hips moving in time with his hand, and his knees pin Draco in close. Their kisses messy and uncoordinated with desperation and _so good so close_. The moment Harry comes, head back with a moan, Draco licks up his neck, nipping his icing smeared chin and mouth, following with a grunted moan.

Harry ignores Draco's mumbled, half-hearted protests about cleaning up or moving, just smooths his hands down Draco's back and squeezes his arse briefly. Enjoying the moment, even if they're mashed on the chaise. As if he wanted to be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _That's it— thanks for reading!_ ❤


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